The Umbrella Disaster: Origins
by Chris Redfield0320
Summary: Part 1 of a series. The story of the Spencer Estate disaster through the eyes of Umbrella top employee Bryan Ritchardson. Resident Evil as you've never seen it before. Multiperspective Storyline! UPDATED 7.29.06...RR please.
1. Dream A Dream

It was sunny—

The sand was as white as clouds and the water made the most relaxing noise as the waves crashed upon the shore. Things couldn't be more perfect.

"Ahh," he said, "Could this get any better?"

"You bet it can, tiger" he heard in response.

All of a sudden he turned around and there stood the most beautiful women he could imagine. She was tall, with brunette hair, the perfect body, and eyes that you could get lost in.

The only response he could come up with was a silent, "God Damn".

"So," she said, "Would you like to go somewhere a little more private?"

"You better fucking believe I would!" he said, almost scaring himself with the intensity of his reply.

"Well, then I need you to do one thing for me first…"

"Anything baby, anything!"

"I…need…you…to…WAKE UP OR YOUR IN DEEP SHIT BRYAN!"

"What the hell," he thought, as his perfect girlfriend and perfect beach started to fade in oblivion. "Wait! Noooo! Can I at least have your number!"

"What the hell are you talking about dude?" Said the all too familiar voice of Bryan Richardson's roommate Justin Baker.

"Whose number do you want? I mean for god sake the least you could do is take a man out to dinner first!" He laughed as he punched Bryan in the arm and walked out of the room.

"I hate you so much Baker, I swear to God." Bryan said as he started to get out of bed. He looked at the alarm clock, and noticed it was 8:30am. Briefing for the day would start in 15min sharp, there was no way he could make it from the east hall to the mansion laboratory in that much time.

"You'd think Umbrella would have enough common sense to install some kind of shortcut for their employees, maybe that way things would run smoother around here. " he thought to himself as he got up, and began to get dressed. He only had 10min before he'd be late, so it was crunch time.

He looked at his bed, "Well baby," he said, "Guess it'll have to wait until another night." He sighed, and moved towards the door. Another day of work at the Spencer Estate was about to begin.


	2. The Day Begins

The Spencer Estate, a brilliant and gorgeously built mansion in the middle of the ever-radiant and lush Arklay Mountain range, just outside of beautiful Raccoon City, USA. Or at least that's what the tour pamphlets say.

"What a load of crap," Bryan thought as he walked through the halls. He knew the pamphlet by heart; he practically helped _write_ the damn thing before Umbrella let him get a more interesting job.

Surprisingly enough the same pamphlet also added that the grounds had been abandoned for years after Lord Spencer's "mysterious" disappearance, and supposedly the Raccoon Police and the ever so illustrious S.T.A.R.S Team asked that all tourists and locals alike stay as far away from the mansion at all times. Umbrella had done a great job of covering up the mansions true purpose.

In fact, one could say that Umbrella's only true skill _was_ covering things up. Chemical spills, oil rigs sinking, and even entire cities. That one always seemed the strangest to Bryan. Raccoon City was not the beautiful mountain-dropped everyone thought it was. The entire city was merely a cover up for both the Spencer Estate labs and a lab underneath the city where even more devious research went on daily. Bryan didn't know much about that facility, Umbrella didn't like any one person knowing too much about any one thing inside the corporate system, so all he knew was its location, and its name "The Hive".

The Spencer Mansion was actually a cover for a secret underground laboratory used for testing such B.O.W as the Tyrant Virus, also know as the T-Virus, or T-Variant, and many of Umbrella's other interesting concoctions, and Bryan Ritchardson was one of the team heads, his job was to monitor all testing that took place and report back to his head, Albert Wesker.

It had become a rather tedious process; up as early as possible, quick shit drink for breakfast, and then down to the labs for his daily briefing, at the end of the day he'd squeeze in a game of poker with Justin and the other team heads, and then email off his report to Wesker.

"Wesker," he thought, "now there's someone who's really made it in this company!"

Not many people knew very much about Albert Wesker, and as far as they were all concerned, he planned to keep it that way. That is why Bryan idolized him. Power was something Bryan dreamed of, fed off of, and anyone who had as much power as Albert Wesker did over the people at this Umbrella facility, and as Bryan imagined many facilities over the world, deserved his loyalty and respect.

"If only Justin could—,"

Bryan was so involved in thought that he didn't even notice the foot sticking right out in front of his own as he went tumbling head over heels to the floor of the hallway he was in. He looked up to see none other then his roommate, and what he would call "friend", but only privately, Justin Baker.

"Better watch where your going dumb-ass." Justin cackled

"Very funny, I don't get what you get out of teasing me, but one day you're gunna regret it." Bryan said as he returned his friends laughter with a swift punch to the arm.

"Ow!"

"Haha Justin, your wit might be sharp, but your reflexes could use a little work. C'mon were going to be late."

Bryan and Justin walked down the hall, they only had 5min to get where they were going and had at least 10min of walking left to do.

On any given day the two could be found palling around both physically and mentally, as they had way back since high-school. Bryan remembered, as they were walking, of the day they first really hit it off at the Umbrella Corporation booth during Career Day senior year. They talked about what they were interested in and hoped that if they ever did end up working for Umbrella together that they'd meet up in the future. The only problem is that Bryan matured, and much to his displeasure, Justin didn't.

Of all the good times they may have had, Bryan could remember equally that many more times he had to save Justin's ass from receiving a pink slip from the head Honcho's at Umbrella HQ for one reason or another.

Justin broke the silence. "Hey," he said, "What's on the schedule today? Anymore testing?"

"I dunno," said Bryan, "But the catch of the day is going to be our asses if we don't hurry up."

"Point taken."

Bryan was shocked when they actually made it, and were only 2min late to work. He parted with his co-worker and they went off for their daily schedule of over watching various experiments.

"Sir," said one of the workers, "Mr.Ritchardson, we've had a breakout!"

"Not already," thought Bryan, the day had just started, "How could this possibly get any worse?"

He had no idea…


	3. The Date

"A breakout?" Bryan exclaimed. "How could anyone have been so incompetent that they couldn't have locked up the cages last night like I ordered?"

Bryan was very distraught; this was his neck on the line, all because someone else made a mistake. He had to deal with that when it came to Justin all too often, but when it came to other people; he had a very short fuse.

"Alright," he sighed, "give me details."

"Well sir," said Patrick Danger, a scientist who, in Bryan's opinion, could never live up to his surname if his life depended on it, "it seems two of our canine test subjects escaped last night during feeding time, and when Dr. Michaleson and Dr. Straught were leaving they forgot to lock the main doors, so we believe they have left the mansion grounds and could be headed for the city we have tried to…."

Danger's voice faded away as Bryan's mind took him to another world. All it took was that one name and he melted.

Dr. Michaelson…Dr. Ingrid Michaelson

Ingrid had come to work at the mansion shortly after Bryan did. They had a lot in common and got along right off the bat. He could talk about anything with her, and she him….that is everything except the one thing he _wanted_ to talk about…**them**. Bryan was never quite as good with the ladies as most of the other guys he knew, and Ingrid, being a much higher-level scientist then himself was always busy working on T-Virus projects, but his day to leave the mansion and go to the city was coming up fast and he knew what he had to do. He planned to ask her out that night at dinner, but everything had to be perfect….everything had to be…

"Sir, are you listening Sir?" Danger's loud mouth snapped him back to reality.

"Uh, yea, yes…" stammered Bryan, "what was the infection level of these two subjects?"

"Freshly infected sir."

"Well, for all we know they could be sniffing out a squirrel somewhere on the premises. I want a full perimeter check…shoot to kill. If anyone happens to see one on the loose contact both myself and a guard immediately….I don't want anyone playing hero…understand?"

The scientists in the room filed out in an orderly fashion leaving Bryan alone to his fantasies…or so he thought.

"I hear you have an escapee."

Without turning around Bryan replied teasingly, "Hello to you too Ingrid."

"So, what's the story?"

"Well," he said, "Seems that you and Dr. Straught forgot to lock the main door after administering the shots yesterday."

"Oh," she replied.

"Don't worry, I'll see that Straught knows better next time," Bryan laughed and winked at her, "So, where you off to?"

"I have to go down to the lab and get a few more vials of the blue stuff." She said.

"I could use a walk, mind if I join you?" Bryan asked.

"Not at all, actually there's something that I've been meaning to ask you."

Bryan's heart skipped a beat, "Yea?" he said, trying very hard not to sound anxious.

"Yea," she said, "See, I've meaning to ask you this for a long time, but I wasn't sure if it'd be right, I mean, I'd absolutely hate to upset you or make things uncomfortable between us, you know?"

"Mmhmm," Bryan replied. He had never drank alcohol or don drugs before in his life, but if their affects were anything similar to the euphoria he was experiencing right now, then god bless anyone who had.

"So, if you don't mind my asking…you know what—maybe this is a bad idea….never mind." She picked up her walking pace leaving Bryan lagging behind a bit.

"No, no please tell me….I promise I won't be upset." He was praying she was about to ask what he thought she was.

"Well, ok." She said. "Rumor has it that," she paused and glanced at Bryan, he couldn't tell why but it seemed as thought she changed her mind again, and then slowly began to say, "Wesker is…um, thinking of giving a few of us team heads and lead scientists pay increases…he hasn't said anything to you in any of your emails has he?"

Bryan's heart sank, but it didn't slow down. "No," he replied, "Sorry, but I'll keep you posted."

They reached the special blast door that sealed the room where the T-Virus was generated.

"Well," Ingrid said, "This is my stop, I'd ask you to walk me in but I'm sure you have other things to do."

"Yea, I'll catch you later," he replied.

As she turned around to enter to security code that would let her into the room Bryan had an argument with his conscious. He knew he wanted to ask her, and he could almost swear that she was about to ask him. But he wanted everything to be perfect at the same time.

When he turned back around to talk to her she was already inside the room.

"Fuck perfect," he thought, "It's now or never." Then punched in the code and walked in.

When he entered the room Ingrid already had 3 glass vials out on the table and a case to put them in under her arm.

"I thought you had somewhere to go." She said as she put the case onto the table with the vials.

Bryan swallowed harder then he ever had before. "Ingrid, I need to ask you something."

"Okay tiger," she said, "but you look kinda sick."

Completely ignoring her response he continued almost like a machine.

"I was wondering," he stammered, "Well you see," he said, "I guess what I'm trying to say is….um…"

"Cat got your tongue?" she laughed at him.

"Ingrid I have been totally head-over-heels for you since the moment you walked in the mansion's front door…" he blurted out.

Without missing a beat she replied, "I came in the back door."

Bryan walked up to her almost jumping out of his skin, and before he could say another word, Ingrid came forward and kissed him. It was such an intense feeling that Bryan felt every last inch of his body explode with emotion, with love. He picked her up and sat her on the table where the vials were and they kissed, and kissed, and kept kissing. Bryan finally felt complete for once in his life.

As they kissed the table shook.

As the table shook one of the vials inched closer and closer to the edge of the table.

They stopped kissing.

"My room or yours?" Ingrid asked.

"Mine," he said, "Justin will be out playing poker till at least 11."

They ran for the door of the room, hand in hand.

"Wait," Bryan stopped. "What about the vials?"

"Screw'em," Ingrid replied. "Who else knows the code except you, Justin and I?"

"Good point," Bryan answered, "Lets go!"

As they ran they slammed the door behind them. Everything seemed perfect, except for one fatal flaw. They had forgotten that the T-Virus containment room was pressure sensitive, and unless the door is shut slowly the pressure in the room was thrown off.

As the door slammed the pressure changed.

As the pressure changed the table shook.

As the table shook, one of the vials fell off and crashed onto the floor.


	4. Raccoon City Times

The following is an excerpt from the Raccoon City Times, dated March 1st 1998:

Cannibal Threat, Lore or Gore?

_By George Dandwidzek_

_Contributing Author to the RCT_

March 1st In Raccoon City, a city known for general tranquility and economical prosperity thanks to companies like Umbrella Inc., the idea of the threat of a string of murders caused by a cannibalistic cult seems very camp fire story-esque.

Local residents of Raccoon City that live near the border of the Arklay mountain forests have been warned by Chief of Police Brian Irons to keep an eye out in lieu of a string of murders linked to that area in the past month. Chief Irons says to be on the lookout for young men and women who may be coming out of the woods, in belief that they may be part of a cannibalistic cult that could be linked to the atrocities

Three people have already been found dead in the forest since the beginning of February and all three murders seem to be similar in one regard, "Lacerations that resemble both human and canine teeth have been found on all three victims bodies," says Albert Wesker, Captain of Raccoon Police's Special Tactics and Rescue Squad (S.T.A.R.S), "We have done as much as we can at this point, and plan to do even more to make sure everyone in Raccoon can sleep safely at night." S.T.A.R.S team members Jill Valentine and Chris Redfield also added, "that there will be a curfew set for dusk at all local parks and we advise you set the same curfew for your back yards if you live along the border of the mountain range."

Chief Irons also wished to let the citizens know that the Umbrella Corporation will be donating as much money and resources as needed to help solve this crime. "The Umbrella Corp.," he said, "finds these crimes to be heinous and of the utmost importance, they plan to help however they can, to keep Raccoon the safe, family-oriented, city that it has been for so many years."


	5. Wesker's Report 1

Subject: Daily Report

Progress at the mansion seems to be staggering.

The test subjects that escaped seem to be functioning fully without any issues, at this point we should believe that they can function in an uncontrolled environment so long as a food supply of one sort or another is provided. However the prey they are attacking has yet, to my knowledge, been of any threat to them.

The Dobermans are fast, and retain their cunning and wit, regardless of the T-Virus effects.

The humans who have become infected by the Dobermans seem to exert strength, but lack in any of the mental capacities beyond the most basic of instincts.

Before we can say that the virus is fully-functional more testing is still needed. I suggest that we test the subject's combat skills. In furthering this thought, I must elaborate on the mansion's recent output:

75 percent of all tests being conducted have had unchanged results since January

Employee morale is down by 25 percent

Many of the subjects in the mansion have decayed to the point where no further testing

can be conducted

Our shark and plant test subjects have begun to become unstable and have attacked a few scientists

Therefore I feel we can personally afford an 'accident" at the mansion as it may be in our best interest to send in my two S.T.A.R.S teams and see how the test subject's handle themselves in a combat situation. In ordering one of my operations managers to cause a "accidental spill" I was informed that one had already occurred beyond my knowledge and that of my staff, therefore leaving no blemish or blame on our companies perfect record. I may also note that I have taken great precautions that nobody, not even the top scientists at the Spencer Estate know the true effects of the T-Virus, any cannibalistic activity seen there I have ordered to be tested on as failure, keeping them in the dark.

I feel we can only gain from this situation, the S.T.A.R.S are the best of the best, and are willing to die in the line of duty…

And their duty, of course, lies in my orders…

**Whatever** they may be.

Sincerely,

Albert Wesker

P.S. – I am ordering my first team in at 0500 hours on Wednesday, March 8th, the second team following approximately two hours after, I will keep you posted as is necessary.


	6. A Day In The Life Of A Baker

Justin Baker's day was uneventful….as always.

However he had become very inclined toward the tedium, which, for Justin was a very rare occasion. Looking back on other jobs he had, this one paled in comparison.

"But the pay is fucking amazing." He thought to himself.

His day consisted of something very similar to Bryan's: wake up, eat, work…or at least pretend to…, eat, sometimes a game of poker or blackjack, and then eat, and bed. Of course, he also had to make sure to keep his schedule open for impromptu teasings of his good ol' buddy Bryan, but that, of course, was off the clock.

Yet this week he had to be a little more on edge, especially after hearing that negligence on the part of Bryan's team had caused a major fuck-up, that and the sudden outbreak of illness in the mansion.

He hated it when Bryan had to take the rap for other people's mistakes, considering he had made him do just that so many times in the past. Justin knew that Bryan thought of him mostly as a responsibility rather then a friend, and that it was mostly his own fault, but he knew that one day he'd have the chance to pay him back, to thank him for everything he had done over the years. Justin wished that he could be more like Bryan sometimes, but now just wasn't one of those times.

He couldn't believe how many people had gotten sick lately. It was a scary thought, but it seemed like the only people who weren't sick were Bryan, and hims—

His phone rang.

"Hello, Justin Baker's office—can I help you?"

"Sir, this is Jason Halick, I'm just calling with the hourly-report."

Justin knew that if Halick was calling everything was alright, but he felt like today was a good day to screw around with him a little bit.

"Oh, alright, let me have it." He said.

"Well everything seems to be going to plan, all the tests…"

Justin cut him off. "Tests? What tests? I didn't authorize any tests."

"Um, sir we test everyday, per your orders."

"You're fired Halick, and tell the others never to disobey me again."

Justin could hear Halick panting for breath on the other line, and as opposed to allowing him to pass out from hyperventilation as he had done before, and gotten in and out of trouble for thanks to Bryan, he cooled the man down.

"Relax Halick, you aren't fired, I'm just messing with you."

"T-T-Thank you S-S-Sir," said the poor man on the other line, "goodbye."

"Goodbye Halick." Justin hung up the phone.

With everything running smoothly and the clock approaching 7pm Justin felt this was as good a time as any to call it a day. He closed up his office, clocked out, and began walking back towards the little room he called home.

Everyday his path sent him past the mansion infirmary where employees could go if they weren't feeling well, and on any normal day he would see it mostly deserted, but lately when he would pass there were lines and lines of people with sores oozing with puss, red bloodshot eyes, coughs, wheezes, and other semi-allergic reactions.

"Well," he chuckled to himself, "I don't think I'll be eating cafeteria food anymore."

Just as he was passing the infirmary he heard a shout coming from within, followed by a gunshot and then total silence. He felt his pulse quicken just a little bit and as he was about to go and see what happened he was stopped by one of his co-workers in line.

"Don't bother, that isn't the first time that's happened," said Steven Koontz.

Koontz had been a good friend of Justin's for as along as he could remember, he was a strong man, with a strong body and a strong will, Justin always looked up to him. But to see him suffering from whatever the others in the line were dealing with seemed completely dehumanizing.

"Don't bother," he repeated, "We don't know what's causing it, but it seems these allergic reactions lend themselves to a loss of sanity and reason that's supposedly only curable by death. Umbrella claims its _standard procedure_, and it's in our contracts."

"Bullshit," said Justin, "This all started right after Bryan's test subjects escaped, I bet they are related."

"I don't know, but you better get out of here before any of us get you sick. I'll call you when I'm feeling better; you owe me a game of poker."

"You're on." Justin replied.

He left the infirmary and headed back to his room and just as he got to the door, out walked Dr. Ingrid Michaelson, a friend of Justin's and apparently a new and very close friend of Bryan's, to Justin's knowledge at least, as this wasn't the first time this week he had caught her leaving wearing what looked like only a bathrobe.

"Doctor," he said mockingly as he nodded his head, "I hope my roommate isn't too ill, is it safe for me to go in?" he laughed.

"Hello to you too Justin," she said, "and by the way, mind your own fucking business."

She left him with a wink, and was gone down the hall.

Justin entered his room to find his roommate lying on his back in bed.

"You sly dog," Justin said with an admirable tone in his voice, "You better tell me everything."


	7. The Plan

"Nothing happened." Bryan swore to stick to that response even if Justin resulted to torture.

"Oh, c'mon dude…just a little something!" Justin was practically begging.

"If I didn't know you well enough I'd say you were jealous Justin."

"Hey now, you know damn well enough I have a girl, she just was smart and got out while she had the chance."

Bryan knew that Justin had been seeing Samantha Hooper for at least 7 years now. The only thing that kept them from getting married was the fact that Sam didn't want to continue working for the company, and Justin did. She had quit about 4 years ago, and lived in Raccoon City, but Justin only got to see her one day a month when he got to leave the mansion.

'Well, your boring anyway," Justin said, snapping Bryan back into reality, "I bet you just laid there, and…um…what is it you losers do…oh yea, _talked_." He chuckled.

"Very funny asshole," Bryan retorted as sat up, "I gotta ask you something though."

"Oh, I understand."

"You do?" Bryan was confused.

"Yea," Justin came and sat next to him in the bed, put his arm around him and continued, "You see, there are the birds and the bees, and when a man really loves a woman he takes his pen—."

"That's enough already!" Bryan yelled as he got up and walked into the restroom to escape his friend's annoying laughter.

"Besides," Bryan shouted from the other room, "That isn't what I wanted to talk about."

"Oh, really? Then tell me what's on your mind bro…"

"This sickness, the one that everyone in the mansion seems to be getting…what do you know about it?"

"Not much," Justin replied, "Why?"

"Well, I'm just really struggling with why we seem the be the only ones who aren't getting sick, I mean of course we have our hazmat suits, but so does everyone else…you don't think it has anything to do with that—."

"Test vaccine?" Justin cut him off.

"Yea." Bryan replied.

Back when they were both new to the Spencer Estate both Bryan and Justin had been randomly selected to participate in a program that only a few members of each Umbrella facility around the word was given a chance to become a part of. They were given a shot of a new test vaccine being worked on by Umbrella called AH846C, and were then monitored for 6 months afterwards. Nothing substantial ever came from it, and it always irked Bryan that he had allowed Umbrella to taint him like that, but now he was beginning to wonder if it had been worth it all along.

"Perhaps," he thought, as Justin rambled off on some off-topic excuse for their health, "This is a planned viral outbreak, and Umbrella wants to see how I handle the pressure…well, I'll show them, I don't understand what Justin can provide, but I guess I could use the help."

"…and that is why rabbits are probably the simplest explanation." Justin finished, looking very pleased with himself.

"Justin," Bryan said, "This is more then…er, rabbits….this is a viral outbreak…I've been thinking about since people started to get sick a few months ago, a T-Viral Outbreak, I think there's a reason why we got those vaccines. I believe it's up to us to make this mess better before the law gets involved.

"Hmmm," Justin said, "Why us?"

"Well, we always have been on top of our departments, and report back to Wesker as scheduled every day. I guess," Bryan said, as he beamed with pride, "loyalty plays a big part in this company in the long run."

"But all those innocent lives that are going to suffer because of the outbreak?" Justin asked, "Why would they do that just to test us?"

"Well," Bryan replied, "I guess we could try to save a _few_ of them, if possible, but I'm sure the spill was an accident, we should get a report from Wesker outlining this soon, so I say we sit back and see what happens…sit tight, you know?"

"I guess," Justin said, "I think you're just paranoid. Good night."

"Night."

Justin went to sleep, but Bryan stayed up. He had thoughts running through his head of award ceremonies and promotions.

Shaking hands with Wesker.

Being the top-dog of Umbrella's research programs.

The sky was the limit, and Bryan was sprouting wings. All he had to do was allow the death toll to rise just enough that it made his feat seem almost impossible, and then follow standard procedure…it'd be a walk in the park.

"What about Ingrid," he thought.

He knew that she meant more to him then any promotion, but this was the best for both of them. She always talked about wanting to get out of Umbrella, and if he got the promotion then she could quit and they could live on his pay. She would be alright, he would just give her a hazmat suit and say that Wesker ordered her detained to her quarters until further notice.

The plan was flawless, and the rewards limitless.

In less then 24 hours all the newly infected would begin to turn, and so on in that manner until as had become custom down at the infirmary. Wesker would come in to see him handling the situation, and the law would never be involved. Perfection.

Just in case something did go wrong, he knew that every Department head was given a pistol for their own safety, and Bryan new where the guard's ammunition stock room was located….if he, or Justin, ran into resistance, appropriate measures could be taken.

Bryan sighed as he climbed into bed. The date was July 22nd, by July 24th Bryan would be a hero, and he could feel it.

"Perfection," he sighed again, as he climbed into bed and shut off the light. For once, a good night's sleep was on its way.


	8. The Horror Is Upon Us

"Fuck this shit," Bryan thought.

It had been two days since he formulated his fool-proof plan, and already it was in shambles. There were way to many infected people and as well as dogs and various other experiments roaming the halls, so he and Justin had become confined to their room, and he hadn't heard from Ingrid since the other night as well.

Of all people though, it was Wesker who pissed him off the most. Several times he had sent off emails asking for assistance and explaining their situation and had never gotten a response. Wesker was not the man to fall back on his duties, so Bryan knew something was very wrong. Bryan was not a man who openly asked for help, but when he did, and he was ignored, his temper flared uncontrollably.

"Sincerely, a most disappointed employee," Bryan said allowed as he typed the signature into his 30th email he would send to Wesker over the course of the last 24 hours.

"Give it up," Justin said, sounding very depressed, "they're just going to get us like they got everyone else…hell even the guys in the outskirts of the grounds have been killed, we would have seen them if they hadn't."

"You give up way to easily," Bryan screamed at his roommate. He needed to get away so he walked into their restroom and shut the door behind him locking it. He knew Justin was probably right, if the people in the city weren't even safe, how could anyone on the grounds of the mansion be?

He had read the Raccoon City Times everyday he was able to safely get to it, and the headline was always the same: "Cannibal Threat Increases, Nobody Safe Claim Authorities." In one of the articles it had mentioned that the S.T.A.R.S Alpha and bravo teams were going to be deployed into the woods to do research and recovery missions, he just hoped that they wouldn't come to the mansion. It wasn't their problem to solve, he could fix this.

The researches out in the garden of the mansion that had been doing plant testing were rumored dead, the last email he had gotten from them had been at least 3 days old and read:

"Attn: whomever this may reach and/or concern. We are trapped in our observation deck, one of our test subjects, whom we have named PLANT 42 has breached all safety barriers and has killed at least 6 of our crew. We cannot leave as it has grown to an enormous size and now surrounds the entire grounds….there is an antidote we are working on….we will send updates hourly, until someone can concoct it and come rescue us. If we do not respond within 24 hours, it is probably too late.

God bless us, everyone."

If that wasn't bad enough, even the aquatic team in the underground lab was distressed and more then likely had met the same fate. Their last report read:

"Our shark subjects have gone out of control. Larry Nets, the technician had become infected and in his loss of control fucked up the pressure gauges beyond repair, flooding the entire facility. We are trapped by our own creations, the sharks are roaming the water-flooded halls, and the main passageway to the emergency exit is flooded all 75 feet from the bottom pool to the bridge level, and the largest shark-creature, named Neptune, is residing inside awaiting us as his next meal. There are only three of us left, and this laptop has enough battery life for about another 2 hrs…it is too late for us. Please give our families our sympathy, and tell them we love them.

We shouldn't have played God boys...it was out of our hands from the start."

All that, in addition to the mansion constantly losing power, and the infected people roaming the halls looking for help…

"Oh, who the hell am I kidding," Bryan thought, "They have become fucking zombies every last one of them."

"So, my genius buddy, are you coming up with a plan, or did you simply fall-in?" Justin said sarcastically.

Bryan opened the bathroom door.

"Wesker should be coming, any day now. He wouldn't let this kind of thing happen without handling it appropriately."

"I thought you said it was a test Bryan, what if he knows and thinks _we_ are handling it?"

"I…I don't know." Bryan said. "There is one option however."

"And that would be?"

"Do you remember what they told us at orientation about emergency situations?" Bryan asked.

"Look at who you are talking to…" Justin replied.

"Touché…Well they said that every facility in case of an emergency has a self-destruct module somewhere in the heart of the main laboratory computer system. If we can reach it than we may be able to destroy all this and the evidence surrounding it, just in case the cops—."

Fwap-fwap-fwap-fwap-fwap

"Did you hear that?" Justin cut Bryan off.

"No." Bryan replied sternly. "As I was saying we could easily out run most of the creatures and the infected humans if we…"

Fwap-fwap-fwap-fwap-fwap

"Ok you had to have heard it that time, I think there is something outside." Justin said, worried that he was going nuts.

Bryan had just about had enough. It was bad enough that they were trapped, his girlfriend was trapped, his idol and employer had abandoned him, and worst of all he was hungry as fucking hell. But now when he was trying to finally rationally solve a humungous problem, and possibly be a company hero, with pay, and an ego, to match, his roommate decides to play a practical joke on him? No fucking way.

"Will you shut the fuck up!" Bryan screamed as he ran to their window. "I don't hear a damn thing; there is nothing out there, nothing!"

He flung the window blinds open and was immediately blinded by a bright search light shining through the dark of the moon-lit woods outside their room. As he opened the window he was deafened by the roar of a helicopter, as he saw it go crashing into the trees below and smoke come billowing up out of the woods.

"Fuck," he said quietly, "They're here."

The S.T.A.R.S had arrived, and made one hell of an entrance.

Bryan assumed, in his state of absolute shock that nobody had survived the crash, but just in case he knew he'd have to handle them once they found the mansion. No police officer wannabe was going to steal his glory, his fame. The worst part being that he knew there were 2 teams, if one just went down, the other would be pulling a rescue opp in about 2 hours time. He'd have to act quickly to eliminate the first group before the second could come to their rescue, that way he would have no difficulty doing the same to second group. Hell with a mansion full of monsters and zombies at his disposal how difficult could it really be?

"Wait here," Bryan said to his horribly confused roommate, "I have some work to do."

"Wait—," Justin said, but Bryan had already grabbed his 9mm beretta and ran out of the room.


	9. When The S T A R S Come Out At Night

"Hmmm," Bryan thought, "I always assumed they traveled in bigger teams then that."

He had been watching the woods in the general direction of the crash for about 45min, and hadn't seen anything until just now. Out of the woods walked 4 men, a tall black man, a Hispanic man, one very lanky Caucasian man with rather long black hair, and a blonde man, Caucasian as well. They were all garbed out in their respective S.T.A.R.S attire, and appeared to flank the mansion, the Hispanic and the lanky man going around the sides, while the black man and the blonde were headed for the front door, all in arms.

"Well, I don't think force will be necessary," Bryan thought out loud, "but just in case…"

He expelled his clip to see how many shots were left. He could have sworn that he should have had 6 shots in the 10 shot clip, but for some reason he only had 4.

"Lets see," he said, "two on the plumber in the east wing, and one of the Doberman by the pantry…that makes three…and then two on the maid by the main staircase," he shuddered for a second, "man that bitch was heavy to move out of the way," he thought.

As he continued to count he heard a bang on the front door of the mansion, and he jolted into position.

Bryan had always had a knack for acting, ever since he was a youth. Back in grade school he had attended a theater camp for many years, and later on went to star in shows like _A Midsummer Night's Dream_, and _Radium_ _Girls_. He had learned the ins and outs of being truthful to your character, which in most cases meant being false to yourself, but hell, acting was acting.

And he was about to play the greatest role he had ever taken on in his entire life.

The encroachers knocked yet again on the door.

"Is anyone inside? This is the Raccoon City S.T.A.R.S unit Bravo Team. Our helicopter had to make an emergency landing in the woods outlying this mansion. If anyone is there please open up or we will have to enter forcefully!"

"Hell of an emergency landing," Bryan thought as he ran panting to open the door.

"Oh thank heavens; I thought I was the only one left!" Bryan exclaimed, dressed entirely in hazmat suit, his pistol hidden underneath, looking completely distraught.

"Sir, are you alright, what is going on here?" said the black man, as he and the blonde walked into the foyer of the house.

"I'm…well…it's just that…you see," Bryan was almost beginning to convince himself of his façade.

"Sir, please relax, take a deep breath, we are here to help. My name is Lt. Kenneth J. Sullivan of the Raccoon City S.T.A.R.S Bravo Team, and this is our communications expert Richard Aiken."

"Hello," said Richard, looking as terrified as Bryan was pretending to be.

"My name is Charles, Charles Woorly," Bryan replied hastily. He had stolen his hazmat suit from a man of the same name who he had never met, and just in case good ol' Rick and Kenny decided to get all moral on his ass and check ID at least he'd have proof.

"Alright Mr.Woorly, our helicopter had to make an emergency landing on the grounds just outside the Spencer Estate, and we already have lost two of our team members, a Ms. Rebecca Chambers and also our pilot who was killed on landing. Who haven't happened to see Ms. Chambers have you?" Kenny was trying to remain as professional as possible, or so it seemed to Bryan.

"No, you don't understand," Bryan replied hastily, the more small talk that went on the less time he had to deal with the other two interlopers who chose to use the back entrance, "There has been an even more horrible accident here!"

"What do you mean?" Richard asked.

"Well, I don't know very much about this place, I'm kind of new, but there are these people roaming around, acting totally insane, and they are hurting people! It's way to dangerous to be anywhere in this house anymore and I was worried no help would ever come. I mean this way to intense for me to handle all by myself and well, I just…I don't…I….I," Bryan stammered until he ran out of breath.

"It's alright Mr.Woorly," Kenny said, "are there any other people than yourself here that we can speak with?"

"I've been trying to answer that question myself actually," Bryan replied, "if you don't mind I sure could use the help searching the place."

"Well, let's see what we can do." Kenny replied.

"Alright, follow me." Bryan said, removing his hazmat helmet.

The 3 men walked through the foyer towards the dining room. Bryan figured if he took just enough time to befriend Kenny, he could easily get the two men to separate. His plan could work perfectly, so long as he could leave one man to the mercy of the zombies and the other locked in the reptilian testing wing.

"Though I may not know what went on up there," he thought to himself, "if it's anything similar to the rest of this hell-hole, Richard will be kept busy until I can handle him later."

They finally reached the middle of the dining room, which was exceptionally large, and, as far back as Bryan could remember, was used for no other purpose then to show off the Spencer family's wealth. In fact, he could never recall ever seeing food come within 50 feet of the room. It was spotted with many a grand chandelier hanging from the ceiling, a grandfather clock, and a gigantic renaissance era mural on the east wall, and a huge fireplace with the family crest above it along the north. In the middle of the room sat a table that stretched nearly the entirely length of the room, with one candelabra set in the middle and chairs all around. In the far southwest corner of the room sat an old-fashioned typewriter on a table about waist-high…Bryan was never quite sure what that piece was for exactly, he always assumed it was just for show. Above them, and below the high-raised ceiling was a balcony that overlooked the room from every side, it could only be reached from the upper level of the house.

"Some place you got here," Richard said, breaking the silence.

"Yea," Kenny added as he looked at the mural, "You folks sure do have a hell of a decorating sense."

Bryan glanced at the portrait, and even though he had passed it many times before it had always made him uneasy. Supposedly, Lord Spencer found gore to be quite pleasing and had won this at an auction in England many years back. It was a painting of 2 men in Elizabethan garb, donning fencing foils, and one man had stabbed his through the other's head, while the other had skewered his opponent's midsection. There was a caption underneath the mural, but Bryan felt they had wasted enough time as it was.

"I guess so," he said trying as hard as possible not to sound irritated, "but we better keep moving."

Much to his chagrin however the men remained motionless and continued to look around the room.

"I see you have a fire going there, Woorly, was it?" Kenny asked suspiciously.

"Yes sir, but I didn't light it; it's a gas fireplace, whole place runs on timers, to big for one staff to handle on their own." Bryan thanked the powers above for helping him pull that one out of his ass at the last second.

"Alright, where are we looking then?"

"When I heard your 'copter go down I had been searching this hallway here—." Bryan said as he pointed to the door at the northeast corner of the room.

"Then lets get moving, Richard, see if you can get Enrico or Forrest on the C/B and tell him what we got going on." Kenny ordered.

"Alright," Richard replied.

Bryan chuckled to himself quietly. What they didn't realize was that there was frequency interrupters installed all over the grounds of the mansion. Only one C/B channel worked on any walkie-talkie used on the grounds, and since Bryan wasn't about to share that with them, he knew had a little extra time to get to Enrico, who he assumed must've been the Hispanic man from before, and Forrest, the lanky, long haired man as well.

They walked to the door and opened it up leading into a very narrow hallway that lead to either their right or left. Each side of the hallway was adorned with doors, some regular old doors, some made of oak and very skillfully carved, and all with locks. The plainer the door, the simpler the lock.

Bryan had a ring of keys in his pocket that would unlock most of the doors in the mansion, but like always Umbrella never was a fan of one person having too much power.

What they were fans of however, were puzzles and riddles.

Lord Spencer, one of the creators of Umbrella, and George Trevor, the mansion's architect, had rigged the old mansion full of tests, traps, and puzzles, all leading to hidden crests, keys and other various items, that only the head honchos at Umbrella HQ knew all about. The Department heads only knew of a few of them each, and were told not to share their knowledge with the others.

The three large men crammed into the tiny hallway and Bryan motioned them to their right into a small sitting room, whose door was already unlocked. He motioned Kenny to take a seat, and then his first test began….separating the S.T.A.R.S.

"Alright, this is as far as I got when I heard the 'copter come down," Bryan said. "I then was about to run out of here when I…" he paused, "did you just hear that?"

"Hear what?" Both men replied in unison.

"That scream, it sounded like someone in trouble….you didn't hear it?" Bryan was laying it on thick.

"No, we didn't," Kenny replied, "Should we check it out?"

"Not all of us together," Bryan said, "Someone should stay here in case someone comes this way looking for help. I vote you." Bryan said as he pointed to Kenny.

"Why me?" Kenny asked.

"Because," Bryan replied, "I don't have anything to protect myself from danger, plus you are also a lot stronger and more capable-looking then either him or myself." Bryan pointed to Richard who still was furiously working on his C/B communications.

"Hey, Aiken," Kenny said.

"Yea?"

"Any luck man?"

"Negatory, sorry. I agree with Woorly though, maybe if we head back towards the foyer I can get a better signal. Plus he seems to know his way around, so no sense in leaving him alone here" Richard replied.

"Alright, but don't take too long, I'm starting to get bad vibes about this place." Kenny said.

Bryan was shocked, he couldn't believe it fell out easier then he had planned it to. He patted Kenny on the shoulder and wished him the best, and then he and Richard headed back to the foyer.

Just as they left, Kenny heard the noise that he thought Bryan had heard. He paused to listen, but there was no way that was a human screaming for help. As it got closer, it became more distinguishable. It sounded more like an empty moan than a call for help. As soon as it was within earshot Kenny moved in to investigate.

As he rounded the corner, he met their "estranged victim" face to face within seconds.

"Oooaoaoooo" it moaned.

Kenny gasped for air, in a state of shock. This man was missing a quarter of his skull, and his flesh had turned grey as if it was decaying. His teeth were practically gone, and he just walked forward arms outstretched, moaning.

"Stop right there!" Kenny shouted.

The man continued to walk.

"I said stop!" Kenny said more desperately.

The man didn't stop.

"I warned you!" Kenny shot a warning shot into the man's leg.

The man paused for a second, reeled off the shot's momentum, and then continued in Kenny's direction.

"What the fuck?" Kenny screamed. That was no man, it wasn't possible, that was a monster, a zombie.

"Jesus-fucking-Christ" Kenny said. He had always been a religious man, but he never knew that those words would be his last prayer ever.

The foyer was one of the largest rooms in the house. It had a grand staircase, carpeted in red, with gold lining, in the center of the room, that lead up a level and then split off in two separate directions that linked to a above pathway/balcony that lead to other rooms on the upper level, the reptile room included. Where the stairs split off was a huge mural painted from the ceiling to the floor, and unbeknownst to many, it contained a hidden door right at the bottom that lead to the family cemetery. The ground floor was tiled like a checkerboard and lead off to a few rooms as well. Underneath the main staircase were pathways that lead to a gated set of doors. Those doors lead to the basement of the mansion, but nobody had been down there since George Trevor, had locked it off many years ago.

When they got there Bryan paused and claimed to hear the scream again, but Richard was so busy trying to contact his teammates that he didn't listen for it himself.

"I think it came from upstairs," Bryan said.

"Let's move out then," Richard replied.

They moved up the stairs, Richard in the lead, gun in one hand C/B in the other. They approached the door that lead to the reptile lab and Bryan proceeded to unlock it.

"I think it was this way," he said.

Richard paused. "How can you be so sure, Woorly, I'm getting a little suspicious of you…"

Bryan hoped it wouldn't have come to this.

"Well, you see," he said, as he pulled his pistol out of his suit's lining, "I don't really care what you think, now give me your gun, and your walkie-talkie, get into that room, and shut the fuck up."

Much to Bryan's pleasure the man obeyed orders, and even more pleasingly had a look of terror on his face the whole time. Bryan knew that without a weapon the man would never be able to defend himself, but at this point he didn't care. These people were nothing but a deterrent to his master plan, and at this point, with everything that had happened around him already he was numb to death's cold touch.

He locked the door, leaving Richard to the prey of the reptiles.

"Together you stand," he said to himself proudly, "divided you die."


	10. Oh My God! They Killed Kenny!

Just as they had left for the foyer, Kenny heard the noise that he thought Bryan had heard. He paused to listen, but there was no way that was a human screaming for help. As it got closer, it became more distinguishable. It sounded more like an empty moan than a call for help. As soon as it was within earshot Kenny moved in to investigate.

As he rounded the corner, he met their "estranged victim" face to face within seconds.

"Oooaoaoooo" it moaned.

Kenny gasped for air, in a state of shock. This man was missing a quarter of his skull, and his flesh had turned grey as if it was decaying. His teeth were practically gone, and he just walked forward arms outstretched, moaning.

"Stop right there!" Kenny shouted.

The man continued to walk.

"I said stop!" Kenny said more desperately.

The man didn't stop.

"I warned you!" Kenny shot a warning shot into the man's leg.

The man paused for a second, reeled off the shot's momentum, and then continued in Kenny's direction.

"What the fuck?" Kenny screamed. That was no man, it wasn't possible, that was a monster, a zombie.

"Jesus-fucking-Christ" Kenny said, as the zombie grabbed him and sank his cold teeth into his flesh.

Kenny had always been a religious man, but he never knew that those words would be his last prayer ever.


	11. The Birds In The Forrest

Enrico Marini and Forrest Speyer were used to severe situations like this. They had been through all the training and this wasn't the first time Bravo Team had been stranded in the line of duty.

"Hey Forrest," said Enrico, "You remember that time those lunatics tried to hold the bank hostage and they sent you and I in to take them out?"

"You mean the time the air vent gave and we went falling through the ceiling?" Forrest responded with a slight chuckle.

"Yea. Which is worse? Then or now?" Enrico asked.

"Well, I'd say then because of the embarrassment, but what the hell attacked us out there in the woods? It looked like a dog, but it five shots before it went down….not to mention how it seemed to have been decaying and th blood was already coagulated."

"What does that mean?"

"Well," Forrest said, "Blood doesn't do that until well after you're dead."

"Oh." Marini replied. "So, then you answer is now?"

Enrico Marini was one of the best leaders a team of men, or women, could ask for. He took his job seriously but remained humble and friendly. He was a man you could look up to, and know he'd look out for you as well. Even in the direst of times he seemed to keep a cool, collected head, and tried his best to keep his team at the same level, to avoid friction. But normally, that was in times of duty that he _knew_ what was going on…this was, by all means, different. Nothing made sense. Dead dogs rising from the depths of hell to attack them in the woods…creepy mansions, and to top it off they already had lost one man in the crash, not to mention there hadn't been any word from Kenny or Richard yet.

"And Rebecca," Enrico thought, "What could have happened to her?"

Rebecca Chambers was an 18-year-old new recruit that had joined Bravo Team as their field medic. She always longed to be involved in a battle situation though.

When their 'copter went down just outside the Spencer Estate grounds, and before they were attacked by those devil-dogs, they had found an over-turned police transport vehicle, accompanied by the two guards who were driving it, both dead. In the back they found a dossier for the convict it was transporting, a Mr. Billy Cohen. Enrico had ordered that they split up in search of him, and after he lost sight of Rebecca he never saw her again.

Just as he was really getting down on himself for the thought of losing another teammate, Forrest called out to him.

"Jesus H. Christ! This place is gigantic!"

"Whoa," was all Enrico could reply as they finally came around the back side of the estate and saw the massive backyard.

Immediately butted up against the house was a graveyard, which, they assumed, was probably for the immediate Spencer Family. As they looked past that they saw a rickety old path that lead down through a thicket of trees and into the massive dark of the backyard. It was way too foggy, and way too dark for them to see anything beyond that.

"Want me to light up a few flares?" Forrest asked.

"How many do we have left?"

"Um," he checked his left hip-pouch, "looks like 2, we had to use 4 back at the crash site so Alpha Team could locate it."

"Don't then, we'll probably need them for something more important, we have flashlights anyway." Enrico replied.

As they began to move towards the graveyard, Forrest began to check all his ammo and weaponry. He had been the vehicle/weapon specialist and lead sniper for the Bravo Team for a few years now. He was pretty laid back, which most people could tell by just looking at him, in fact, according to his colleague Chris Redfield, the only thing keeping him from being a rock star was his lack of any talent whatsoever. As they neared the graveyard, he and Enrico clicked on their flashlights and began to patrol the beams through the wispy fog.

Caw-caw-caw-caw-caw

"What the hell?" Enrico exclaimed.

"Relax Cap'n," Forrest said as he pointed his flashlight at some power lines that ran above their heads, "it's just a couple of bir—."

Before he could finish his sentence the birds had left the wires and were now at full-head on assault with the rock-star wannabe.

"Forrest, look out!" Enrico shouted as he tried to take aim. Just as he lifted his pistol a giant black mass flew right past him and knocked it out of his hands.

It was one of the birds. They were massive embodiments of Alfred Hitchcock's worst nightmare. Large black wings, sharp, long beaks, and beady eyes that could suck the soul out of the strongest person.

Enrico dove for his gun and spun around to aim. As he looked up he saw one of the birds almost about to crash down on his teammate.

Bam!

He fired off one round and nicked the bird in the wing, and it collapsed to the ground. He shot it once in landed, but he didn't see the other one coming down on his friend as well.

It was too late; he didn't have enough time to aim and shoot before it reached Forrest and took a nice bite out of his arm with its razor sharp beak.

"AAAArrgh! Get this piece of shit off me!" Forrest screamed.

Enrico stood up ran over to his friend, knocked the bird to the ground with the butt of his pistol and shot it in the head.

"Duck and cover!" Enrico screamed, as he knocked himself and Forrest to the ground and patrolled the sky to see if there were any more potential attacks swarming about.

Everything went silent.

It was over.

Enrico turned over to see his comrade lying on the ground bleeding pretty badly out of his right arm, which he was now cradling across his chest, and wrapping in his torn up shirt in a make-shift tourniquet.

"Ay dios mio!" Enrico exclaimed, "Are you alright man? What the fuck were those things, they were gigantic!"

"Like I said," Forrest replied, straining, with all his strength to reply, "They were birds."

"Nuh-uh," Enrico replied, "birds do not get that big, and thirst for blood, something is very wrong here…I'm beginning to wonder if this so-called Cannibal Clan, isn't something slightly more sinister then Umbrella and the media is willing to admit."

"I don't know," Forrest tried standing up, "but if I don't get this taken care of soon I'm going to lose a lot of blood."

Enrico never had very formal medical training, but growing up in the Latin projects as a kid, where there were very few affordable doctors, he learned how to take care of his bumps, bruises, and deep cuts pretty well.

"Let's see if we can get you inside amigo." He said.

"What about the mission?" Forrest replied.

"Fuck it." Enrico said, "I'll get you situated somewhere that you can lie down inside, and then I'll go see what I can find inside…think you can handle a little climbing though?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well," he said, "there aren't any doors that I can see from back here, and the windows are too high up to reach, but I do see a vine support on that wall over there that leads up to that balcony on the second level…it looks pretty sturdy."

"All right, the shock hasn't worn off yet, so I'm not in too much pain." Forrest said.

They climbed up the vine support along the side of the mansion, and when they reached the top, Enrico busted open the door from the outside, and lead Forrest into what they assessed to be a living quarters that had long since been abandoned.

There were clothes strewn all over the place, and the bed was a shambles. There was evidence of a struggle as the yellow wallpaper that lined the room had claw marks in it in various places. It seemed as though something had gone very wrong in this room a very long time ago, however it was safer for Forrest in here then outside.

"Alright," Enrico said as he put another tight cloth around his friend's arm, and proceeded to elevate it to slow the bleeding. "Lay here, try not to move around too much and whatever you do, don't let anyone in this room until I get back. If you get dizzy go get some fresh air out on the balcony, but keep your arm elevated. I'm leaving your pistol on the dresser over here."

"Nnnnnh." Forrest mumbled, totally exhausted, and suddenly not feeling quite as coherent as he did earlier that evening, but he was suddenly a little hungrier then normal.

"Ok kid, I'll be back as soon as I've finished searching the perimeter for Rebecca or anyone else I can find." Enrico stated as he left the room and climbed back down the vine support.

"Could this not possibly get any worse?" he thought to himself as he turned his flashlight back on and returned to the abyss.

He had no idea.


	12. Wesker's Report 2

FirstClass Email System

Subject: Daily Report

From:

To:

Everything is going according to plan.

The mansion has been entirely overrun with Umbrella creations, and they are performing to the utmost of their capacity. Everyone who is there should be dead by now….

Bravo team included.

The only strange thing is that I am yet to have even heard a single report from the Bravo Team since lift-off nearly 15 hours ago. After they had reported their helicopter crash I ordered them to report back every hour, on the hour. Either the monsters are more powerful then we imagined, or something has gone wrong.

I refuse to let this mission be compromised. Umbrella depends on this very important information…as does my rather empty city-funded paycheck.

I plan to send in the Alpha Team shortly, they are currently prepping their 'copter and weapons, and for more-better assurance I plan to captain this mission by going with them, as opposed to remaining at the station.

Upon arrival I will document the confrontations I witness, and maybe cause a few unexpected ones at that. I should be able to use our brute-strength, Mr. Barry Burton, to my advantage in manipulating our research a little bit. In the end, following protocol, I will activate the self-destruct sequence in the mansions data-frame and there will be nothing left by ashes…."an accidental fire in one of the kitchens."

I plan to ensure significant findings in both the plant and shark testing areas, as one of Umbrella's employees, a Mr. Bryan Richardson, seems to have had survived slightly longer than the rest, and was reporting back to me for some time until recently.

Plant 42 has grown to full capacity and turned violent, which should prove to be stimulating.

Neptune, our largest shark experiment, has also managed to gain freedom amongst the semi-flooded water labs.

I'm sure by now 9/10s of the staff has also been mutated, which should show the basic applications of the fruit of our labors, the T-Virus…

Plus, if all else fails…

I'm sure the Tyrant is more then famished by now….

Sincerely,

Albert Wesker

P.S. If Richardson happens to still be alive, this mission may turn out easier then expected.


	13. The A Team

"Alright, it's very _protocol_, and pointless," Wesker said, "But I have to do a roll-call before we finish prep…so here goes."

Everyone in the S.T.A.R.S. Office stopped what they were doing with a heavy sigh.

"Burton, Barry" Wesker read from his dossier.

"Here."

"Frost, Joseph"

"Present."

"Redfield, Chris"

"Yup."

"Valentine, Jill"

"Here, sir."

"Vickers, Brad"

"H-H-Here." said a shaky voice from the back.

"Um, sir," Frost chimed in, "so long as your sheet is in alphabetical order, I move to have Brad's name moved up before mine, as _Chicken-heart_ comes before Frost in any alphabet I've ever seen."

Everyone laughed but Brad….and Wesker.

"That's enough Frost; we don't need animosity before missions like this…keep it up and I will send you back to Bravo Team where you belong." Wesker replied sternly. "Alright, no sitting around, let's get packed up and to the 'copter, I want to be air-born in thirty…"

Wesker walked out of the room, leaving the Alpha Team to finish their last minute prep.

"Alright," Chris said, breaking the silence, "anyone know anything special about the Spencer Estate?"

"Well," replied Joseph, "I heard that it was built way back in the early 1900s by Umbrella's creator, and namesake for the mansion, Lord Spencer, but then he went crazy and killed everyone inside, and then himself." He laughed as he punched Brad in the arm.

"You ought to consider studying history," replied a gruff voice from the back of the room.

"Oh really, old man?" Joseph said.

Barry Burton turned around as he put on his orange jacket-vest, and placed a 9mm Beretta into the inside pocket. He stood a towering 6' 3", and was about as wide as a tank, with muscles to match. He may have been older then any of the other team members, but whatever he lacked in speed and dexterity, he made up for in strength and dependability.

"Yea, really," he said mockingly as he towered above Frost. "The Spencer Estate _was_ built in the early 1900s for Spencer, but by a man named George Trevor. Trevor was to design it to be used as Umbrella's main HQ, but somewhere in the process of it being finished, Spencer decided to move the HQ to Europe and use the mansion for dignitaries and other Umbrella bigwigs to stay in. After it was completed rumor has it that something went very wrong with Trevor, and he abandoned his family, and supposedly roamed the halls like a maniac until he starved to death." Barry finished his sentence by slamming a new clip into his magnum revolver…a good luck piece he carried on every mission.

"Yea," said Frost, "and now his ghost roams the hallways of the mansion looking for _Chicken-hearts _to feast on." Joseph got up and walked out of the room cackling.

"F-F-Fuck you F-Frost." Brad said, shaking as he loaded his survival bag with supplies.

Brad wasn't new to Alpha Team, so they had gotten used to his antics, however he still hadn't gotten used to his nickname.

For a long time, the basic knowledge of the S.T.A.R.S. Team rested solely in 3 rules: **NEVER** disobey an order, Avoid RPD Cafeteria food at _any_ cost, and Never get stuck in a physical altercation with Chicken-Heart Vickers as your back-up.

The only thing Brad Vickers had in common with bravado is that 4 of the 7 letters in "Bravado" spelled B-r-a-d, and that was as close as he'd ever get. It didn't take much to scare the man beyond reason, so his nerves were always on end. This never proved positive in the heat of a mission, and always ended up putting them in hot water. At one point he decided to quit the team, but Barry had been able to persuade him to stay-on as the vehicle specialist for Alpha Team which involved little, to no, field time.

"Relax," said Barry in a fatherly tone, "There are no such things as ghosts, Frost is an asshole, now finish getting ready or Wesker is going to chew our asses out!"

Brad nodded and left the room, leaving Chris, Jill and Barry to their final duties.

Barry walked over to his desk and picked up a picture with his kid and wife on it. He starred at it for about a minute, kissed the picture, and placed it back on his desk.

"Honestly, is it worth it Barry?" said Chris.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you know, risking your life everyday like this? I mean you have a family to take care of, you ought to take some time off…or reti—."

"Don't even _think_ that word rookie," said Barry sternly.

Chris had always admired Barry. If it hadn't been for him, then Chris would never have even gotten into the S.T.A.R.S after he was kicked out of the air force. He had found out quite quickly after being discharged that very few people were looking for personal fighter-pilots nowadays, but Barry took him under his wing and brought him to Wesker who gave him this job. He owed Barry his life. To see him deal with all this responsibility on a daily basis killed Chris, he knew the man only wanted to be with his family, plus he knew what it was like to have to care for others. Chris had been watching out for his younger sister Claire for as long back as he could remember.

He turned towards his own desk and picked up her picture.

"How is she?" Jill said.

"She's doing pretty well actually," Chris responded, "I haven't heard from her in a few days though…when we get back I'll have to remember to call her."

"She's a good kid," Barry said.

"Yea, you did a great job watching out for her Chris," Jill agreed.

"Alright you two," Barry said, "Finish up what you got to do and meet us out on the helipad ASAP. Got it?"

"Yes sir," they replied in unison.

Barry walked out of the room, ducking slightly as not to hit his head on the top of the door frame.

Jill stopped and glanced around the office.

It wasn't really much of an office, as far as offices are concerned. It was more of a janitorial closet gone horribly wrong. The room was just big enough to hold a coat and gun rack, 7 desks, a screen, communication equipment, one filing cabinet, and a slightly upholstered bench that vaguely may have resembled a couch a few centuries back.

The desks were lined up 3 and 3 against each wall, with Wesker's separate and at the head of the room. The screen was behind his desk, the filing cabinet next to it. Right next to the door stood the very old coat and gun rack, and along the last open wall was the comm. equipment with the couch in front…decked out for _maximum_ comfort. The walls were rotting away slowly, and the door creaked louder than anyone could ever imagine. If the national review panel of the S.T.A.R.S USA program were to ever visit Raccoon, there were going to be changes in order.

Jill sighed as she looked at her pictureless desk, and began rummaging through her own supplies which she began to load into her various pockets and hip-pack.

"Let's see," she thought, "Pen-flashlight, check, Ammo, check, First-Aid Spray, check, Lock pick, check, Dad, check."

Of all the items she carried, the last two were the most important. Her father had been a great thief and conman. He taught her every skill she new…every skill she needed to be an S.T.A.R.S member. However, when he was finally caught he made her promise to only use her abilities to help others, a path it was too late for him to choose. She swore that she would do just that, and used her skills to convince Wesker, that even though she was a woman, she had what it took to keep up with boys….and then some. She never left on a mission without the lock pick her dad gave her, and his picture for good luck.

"Alright," said Chris, "I'm ready when you are."

"I was born ready," Jill replied.

They gave each other a nod and ran out of room for the helipad.


	14. Is There A Doctor In The House?

Bryan slowly walked back to his room, basking in the glory of the accomplished tasks, while, at the same time, trying not to vomit. After going back to check on Kenny, and finding one of the zombies munching on the man's skull, his stomach had lost its stability.

"Alright," he thought to himself, "I've got to catch Justin up to speed, and then figure out what happened to Enrico and Forrest before they find their buddies."

Bryan began to formulate his plan. He figured that Enrico and Forrest were probably wandering the perimeter and were sidetracked in the woods behind the house at this point. That gave him at least an hour before they reached the laboratory service entrance, realized it was locked, and would try to come back and into the house through the back. Plus, as much as he tried to avoid the thought, he new there would be another 'copter full of these pricks in a matter of time, and he'd have to start all over again.

That's why he needed help.

"That's why," he though, as he shuddered, "I need Justin."

As he approached his door he lifted his hand to knock, and then realized how unbelievable pointless an action that would be at this point, and just entered. Justin was sitting on his bed, out of uniform, in jeans and a black t-shirt, unloading and re-loading his 9mm over and over again. He glanced up as Bryan entered, and then went back to his tedious task.

"What?" Bryan said. "No hello?"

"What the hell is going on here Bryan?" Justin asked. "I am being kept so deep in the dark that I can't figure a damn thing out anymore!"

"Relax," Bryan replied, taking a seat next to him, "its not quite as complicated as it seems."

"I'm waiting." Justin said impatiently awaiting an explanation.

"Alright," Bryan said, "The helicopter that went down belonged to the Raccoon City S.T.A.R.S Team, they came to investigate the murders in the forest and their 'copter broke down and crashed outside the mansion. When they came in they caught me by surprise and began to notice all the death in the air."

"They could smell it?" Justin interrupted.

"No, but if you haven't noticed it doesn't look like the maids have gotten any better and started to clean up the bloody carcasses all over the place." Bryan said sternly.

"Good point."

"Moving along," Bryan continued, "they saw what they saw, and they immediately started to ask me all these questions."

"Like what?"

"Like if I knew what was going on. If I knew any of these people. If I was the one that caused it, or if I had help. They started asking too many questions is my point." Bryan said. "So, I had to take appropriate measures, and I locked one in a room with a zombie, and the other in the reptile lab."

"You did what?" Justin screamed standing up.

"I took appropriate measures," Bryan said calmly, "If I hadn't we could have been arrested."

"_WE?_ Since when is this _we_? This has always been _you_ from the beginning Bryan!" Justin was freaking out.

"Justin, do you honestly think that I'd go down and not take everyone I could with me…this isn't my fault or your fault individually, but there's no one but us to take the blame…so if we take it, we take it **together**," Bryan said, "and please, forgive me for assuming that you'd rather I save our asses then allow them to be violated by some bank robber named Bubba who needs a new girlfriend."

Justin sat back down. "Alright," he said, "so now what?"

"Well, there is another team of S.T.A.R.S that will be coming in soon to recon on the downed 'copter and look for their comrades," Bryan stood up and began to elaborate; "however, of the 4 men on the helicopter, I only was able to find the two I disposed of. There are another two roaming the grounds, and probably another team of 4-6 men on the incoming 'copter."

"So," Justin said, "We need to find them, _and_ be ready to get rid of the second team?"

"Precisely."

"All by ourselves?"

"Yep."

"That's a lot of people to get rid of on our own…we could use some help."

"Who are we going to call in?" Bryan asked sarcastically, "the national guard, perhaps?"

"I was thinking Ingrid." Justin replied.

Bryan's heart skipped a beat, and a cold shiver ran down his spine as he began to sweat.

He had completely forgotten to check on Ingrid in the heat of everything that had been happening.

"Fuck," Bryan said, "We don't have much time to spare, let's go see how she's doing and maybe she can help us."

The two man exited the room and Bryan took off running down the hall at full-speed, leaving Justin walking in his dust. When they finally had both reached the room Bryan knocked on the door, once again realizing that it was absolutely pointless.

They opened the door to find Dr.Michaelson asleep in their bed.

"Phew," Bryan thought, "At least she was getting some rest."

"Uh, Bryan," Justin said.

"Shhhh man, she's sleeping, be considerate," Bryan whispered.

"Bryan," Justin began to whisper, "I don't think she's—."

"Shut up already will you? I'll go wake her up."

Bryan approached her bedside and placed a hand on her shoulder. He could feel a clammy sweat on his hand that had saturated her shirt, and his pulse began to quicken. If she had contracted some sort of fever, and had alerted him sooner he may have been able to get her some medication.

"Dr.Michaelson," Bryan said as he started to gently shake her.

"Hello? Dr.Michaelson?" Bryan shook her and rolled her onto her back.

Slowly, her eyes opened and looked directly at Bryan.

"Um, Bryan," Justin said nervously, "I really don't think—."

Bryan ignored him, and picked up her hand in his.

"Ingrid," he said, "are you alright?"

At that point Ingrid Michaelson, or the now soulless body thereof, grabbed Bryan's wrist as she violently jerked into an upright position, drool coming out of the side of her dry, gray lips. Her bloodshot eyes locked with his, and she began to pull his wrist to her yellow teeth as she let out a hollow, bone-chilling moan.

Bryan screamed, but noticed he couldn't hear himself over the large bang. He couldn't imagine his heart would be beating that fast and that loud, but then he noticed Ingrid slump back, as red, coagulated blood began to ooze out of a hold in her skull…right between her eyes.

That wasn't his heart…it was a gun…Ingrid was dead.

And Justin had killed her.

"You sunuvabitch!" Bryan screamed as he dove for Justin, who had just dropped his pistol to the floor.

"What?" Justin exclaimed as Bryan tackled him.

"You killed her, you fucking killed her! She was startled, that's all…startled…it would have been fine….but you shot her!" Bryan tried to hold back his tears, but he just couldn't. After all the stress he had incurred so far, with his beautiful plans falling apart, and now his one true love dead, he just couldn't hold it back any longer.

"Bryan, dude, she had been dead for a long time…and you know that! Look at her, she would have bitten you, and then who knows what could have happened!" Justin said as he shoved Bryan off of him and onto the floor.

The two men sat in the room for about ten minutes, as Justin found Ingrid's pistol and took the clip for himself, and Bryan sat alongside her corpse and cried.

She hadn't deserved to die like this. She was innocent. She was beautiful.

If only Bryan had been more concerned for others, rather then himself, he could have saved her. It was his fault…he could never get her back and it was his own fault.

"Wait a second," Bryan thought, "If those S.T.A.R.S had just stayed clear of this place, as per their orders, I would have more time to devote to her….this isn't my fault…it's **theirs**."

Bryan glanced at Justin, and slowly stood up.

"Come on," he said, "we don't have much time before their next 'copter lands."

"What about her?" Justin said pointing to Ingrid.

"Don't worry," Bryan replied, "They'll pay for this….they'll pay dearly."

"Who will?" Justin said.

However, his words fell on deaf ears as Bryan walked out of the room simply muttering, "They'll pay, they'll pay alright."

"If I have to shoot each and every last one of them," Bryan thought, "they will pay."

This wasn't his fault…the S.T.A.R.S had wronged him…and when someone does something wrong, they must punished.

Punishment time had begun.


	15. Over The River And Through The Woods

The S.T.A.R.S team loaded into the big black helicopter, and the large blade began to turn.

It was a brisk evening, especially for such a humid month as July. The clouds were just turning orange as the sun began to set, and the wind made a nice rustling sound as it passed through the trees below.

This would have all been a very nice sight to see if Alpha Team had not been busy with their pre-mission prep. Everyone on their team had their own special way of doing last minute mental, and physical preparation before being sent into any type of possibly harmful situation.

Brad sat in the cockpit, incessantly repeating a calming mantra his psychologist had recommended.

_Big open green field, Big open green field_

Jill sat silently and centered herself by concentrating on what she could contribute to the team on the mission.

Chris, and Barry, both sat unloading and reloading their guns almost rhythmically. For every time Chris unloaded his Beretta, Barry slammed his clip back into his Colt Magnum Revolver, and vice versa.

_Click-click, Click-click, Click-click_

Joseph read a playboy, the same playboy he had read every time they left for a mission, the playboy with his ex-girlfriend in it.

Albert Wesker just sat. He didn't need to concentrate, he wasn't _paid_ to concentrate, he was paid for results, and results were his only concern.

As the plan flew over the forests surrounding Raccoon City and the Arklay Mountain Range the sky slowly turned from reddish-orange to a dark black, and the moon shone high in the sky. They could occasionally hear a coyote howl, or the radar on the 'copter bleep out loud.

"ETA?" Wesker asked.

"W-W-Were looking at about 5 minutes s-sir," said a very jumpy Vickers from the cockpit.

Shortly after the team could see the billowing smoke from the wrecked 'copter coming up through the clearing where trees had once been before Bravo Team's unexpected landing. As they made their decent to investigate Wesker pointed out the Spencer Estate on their far left.

"If **anything** goes wrong, that is our contact point. Understand?" he asked.

"Ay-ay sir!" they replied in unison.

The helicopter landed in a clearing about 500 feet from the downed craft, and the Alpha Team, sans Brad, filed out in military fashion to do their rounds as their investigated. Chris, Jill and Wesker moved in on the Bravo 'copter, as Barry stood guard and Joseph did a preliminary sweep of the perimeter of the crash site.

As they approached the helicopter all three team members clicked on their flashlights.

"Sir," Chris said, "It looks like their rear blade-mechanism suffered some kind of electrical damage and exploded off the craft." He aimed his beam towards the back of the helicopter, where the tail was in pieces, and on fire.

"Noted." Wesker replied.

"Look!" Jill said from the front of the helicopter.

The two men turned around and moved in towards her to see that there was apparently someone in the cockpit.

Wesker knocked on the outside of the 'copter.

"Hello?" he said, "Carl? This is Capt. Wesker…are you alright in there?"

Carl Jurgens was the Bravo team flight specialist. He had decided to stay at the crash site after Bravo Team went down, as he had suffered minimal injuries and felt it best to wait for Alpha Team to come evac.

The door to the cockpit from the outside had suffered considerable damage in the crash so it too the full force of the two men and a swift kick from Jill to remove it from the helicopter. As they ripped off the door, the body of Carl Jurgens slumped out and into Chris's arms.

"Oh my god," Chris said softly.

Jill shined her light on the man's body, and noticed severe gash wounds, shaped like canine teeth all over the man's body, and face. One of his eyes had been gouged out, and his right arm, from the elbow down was missing, all that was left was a bloody stump.

"What could have happened to him sir?" Jill asked in shock.

"That's what we are here to find out. But coddling him is not going to solve anything, put the body down Chris." Wesker replied sternly.

As Chris let the body slump the damp forest floor, Joseph radioed for their attention.

_Hey guys_—

"What is it Frost?" Wesker replied.

_You ought to come check this out—_

"Move in." Wekser ordered and they turned in Joseph's direction.

When all the light was on him, Joseph bent down and picked up his discovery. It was a severed lower arm. It had been chewed up badly like some dog bones he had once seen.

"Anyone need a hand?" He said laughing.

"That must be Jurgens's" Chris shouted.

"Who?" said Frost.

Just as he was listening for Chris's response, Joseph was distracted by a noise. Now this was not the same kind of noise he usually made up to ignore his fellow officers. No, this was definitely different. He heard rustling coming from in front of him, in the darkness. He heard growling coming from behind him as well.

Immediately he took his flashlight beam and began to scan the ground around him.

"What is going on there Frost?" Wesker shouted.

Joseph continued to flail his light around looking for the noise, until all of Alpha Team's lights were shining in his direction.

Something was wrong, he could hear the growling getting louder and closer, and occasionally he thought he saw large black masses swift run past his beam of light. But as quickly as he would follow the noise would come from somewhere else.

"Guys," Joseph said slowly, "I don't think we're alon—."

Before he could finish his sentence one of the black masses jumped him and sent him to the ground.

"Frost! Frost are you alright?" Jill shouted.

"Hold your positions," Wesker said sternly.

As he screamed and tried to fight it off he felt his fingers get wet and slimy. He grabbed for his flashlight while fighting off the monster and shone it towards the beast

That is when he saw what it was.

A large, sinewy, bloody dog, whose ears, and fur had been ripped from its bones was now on top of him, its mouth frothing. Its eyes were blood red, and there was a large piece of flesh missing from its hind quarters, but it didn't seem to notice, or care. All it cared about was Joseph.

He continued to fight it off, until he heard another growl from behind him, he looked up and just as he noticed another beast, the first one took a bite out of his leg.

"Ahhhh!" he screamed.

"Joseph!" Barry shouted taking a step forward.

"I said hold your positions Burton!" Wesker yelled.

Joseph tried to keep fighting, but every time he fought one of these dog beasts, these dog _zombies_ the other would attack, it was all too much, and they were tearing him apart. The pain was too much, but he refused to give up. He shoved the first dog off of him and sat up, grabbing his pistol, just as one dog charged at him he fired a round into its leg sending it down. The second then turned and charged and he fired another shot into his head, stopping it dead.

He sat back down on the ground to assess his wounds.

"Is everything alright Frost?" Wesker shouted.

"I think so sir," he said, 'I think I killed them both—."

Just then he felt warm sticky breath on the back of his neck.

"Both what?" Jill asked.

Joseph turned around and saw the dog he had shot in the leg standing in front of him as if nothing had happened.

"Fuck," he said as the dog lunged for his throat and ripped it to pieces.

All the Alpha Team heard in reply was a scream that slowly turned into a wet tearing noise.

Joseph Frost was dead.

And the growling suddenly became louder.

"Do you hear that?" Chris asked.

They all looked at Wesker. He couldn't afford to seem suspicious, he had to lead them as they would expect, and he knew more of those canines were beginning to surround them. Although Joseph's death was the first true test, and a successful one at that, there were still other creations, other then the dogs, which needed to be tested, so they had to keep moving.

:"Everyone back to the 'copter! Hurry!" Wesker screamed.

The whole team ran for their helicopter as fast as possible. Each member occasionally looking over their shoulder's to make sure they didn't have whatever killed Joseph on their tails.

Chris knew they were approaching the craft as he heard the blades turn on and begin to whip around in the air.

_Strange—_he thought

_Protocol says to only start the 'copter after every member is accounted for…_

_Unless…_

Chris picked up speed. Something had scared Brad and he was about to leave without them. He was the first one to the 'copter as it had already began to leave the ground. He jumped and tried to grab onto one of the foot-rails, but they were too high up…

"Wait! No! Come back!" Chris shouted as he fired a round in the air.

Chicken-Heart Vickers had flown the coop.

"What do we do now?" Barry asked.

"Head for the mansion!" Jill shouted.

"Do as Valentine says," Wesker said, "Redfield, you and I need to keep these _things_ off our asses, shoot to kill."

They all ran for the mansion, the dogs hot on their trail, as Chris and Wesker shot into the darkness to scare them off.

"Ah," Wesker thought, "things couldn't be going more perfectly if I had tried."

Tonight was going to be easy.


	16. Lets Split Up Team!

**Authors Note: Sorry for the pause in writing there guys, I ran into serious writers block as to where I wanted to go next in the story…That is why I'm writing this note. I need to give credit to author S.D. Perry because I re-read a chapter of her book "The Umbrella Conspiracy" in order to get a few ideas on where to go next. A lot of this chapter is my original ideas; however I need to give credit where credit is due. This won't happen again, but I couldn't not finish this story, so I needed help. So thank you S.D. Perry for your creative ideas….and on with the story…**

The growls were getting closer and more intense with every second as Wesker grabbed for the brass door handle of the Spencer Estate. He expected to have to shoot the lock off, but it turned with ease.

The door was already unlocked.

He fumbled into the room, Barry, Jill and Chris following right behind. As Chris entered the room he slammed the door shut behind him.

"Move!" Wesker shouted.

Chris jolted out of the way as Wesker ran and locked the door, bracing all his weight up against it. He looked at his team as they wandered the room with astonishment.

Jill was the first to let out a heavy sigh. She had never seen such a beautifully adorned room before in her life. Nothing about the room seemed to falter; it was the epitome of perfection. The gold and brass were shiny, she could practically see her reflection in each of the black and white tiles on the floor, and carpets were as fresh looking, and flushed as fresh grass. It would really be a sight to take in if she could just relax, but those damn dogs—

"And Joseph," she thought, "He had always been a chauvinistic prick, but he was a team member, and she had let him down….they all had let him down…"

"Then again," she thought, "speaking of let downs, what about Brad…I can't believe he left us!"

Another thought she couldn't seem to shake was how well kept the place seemed to be. For a mansion abandoned 30 years ago, it seemed to age well.

Wesker backed away from the door; he could still hear the relentless clawing from the beasts outside.

He glanced at the door lock.

"It was unlocked when I grabbed it." He said.

"Think Bravo team is here?" Barry replied.

"My sentiments exactly, Burton." Wesker replied. "How are we doing weapons-wise?"

Chris and Barry checked their hip packs.

"Looks like between the two of us we have 2 clips of 9mm ammo, and Barry can suffice for his Colt." Chris said.

"I have 6 shots loaded, and a clip in reserve." Jill said.

"And I the same." Wesker stated.

"Sir," Barry said, "This place was abandoned 30 years back right?"

Wesker hesitated. "Yes Barry, why?"

"Well, it seems like it's been kept up pretty nicely considering, dontcha think?"

"I know Burton," Wesker glared at the man coldly through his black sunglasses, "I'm sure there has to be an explanation somewhere, so I suggest we look around."

_Thump_

"What was that?" Jill asked as she spun around to see where the noise came from.

"Sounds like it came from over there." Chris said pointing towards the dining room door, "I'll go check it out."

"Alright Redfield," Wesker replied, "Don't get cocky, if you need help fire off a round and we'll come find you."

Chris ran for the door and disappeared behind it.

As he entered on the other side he was astonished by the lavish beauty of the dining room. Everything last detail was enhanced by the light being cast from the fireplace and the candelabra on the table. All the room was missing was a party full of drunken aristocrats deciding the fate of the less fortunate.

That was the weird part.

This place had been abandoned for years, so where were the boarded up windows and rats running along the floor. This place should be condemned, not ready to host the president. It just didn't make sense.

Then he smelled it.

One of the most unexplainable, vile, stomach-turning smells he had ever experienced. It smelled like death on a hot summer's day. But it was faint.

"Must not be coming from this room." Chris thought.

_Thump_

He glanced quickly down the long corridor of a dining room to where he heard the noise from. It came from behind the only other door in the room. He quickly jogged down the aisle way, and opened the door.

When he ran through the smell overpowered him so strongly he had to brace himself on the door frame to keep from toppling over and vomiting right there on the spot. It seemed to surround him in the small, dimly lit hallway. He glanced around quickly to look for a window to open when he saw the silhouette of a man crouching on his knees in the only open room in the hallway.

He walked towards the room, gun cocked and ready, as he analyzed the man from behind. He seemed sickly skinny, with tattered clothes, thinning hair, and a very pale complexion.

"Turn around with your hands up!" Chris shouted.

The man turned in his direction.

Chris stumbled backwards in shock when he saw this man's…no this _thing's_ face. He almost tripped onto his backside, and in the process of stabilizing himself had slammed the door of the room shut behind him.

"Shit," he thought as he tried the doorknob, "I'm locked in."

The creature started to slowly shuffle towards him, arms outstretched. Parts of his skin on its face were missing, the lining of his mouth stained red with blood. Other various parts of his body were tattered with holes in them at various places as well.

Chris had seen movies about this late night's back at the station.

Things that go bump in the night.

This wasn't a man…it was a zombie.

He fired two rounds into its torso and it dropped to the ground, let out a long slow wheeze of an exhale, and crumpled in a pile, dead, on the floor.

Chris stood catching his breath.

"What the fuck was that thing?" he said.

Zombies don't just jump off the screen and into reality.

"No this couldn't be zombies, it had to be something viral, with similar affects," he thought, "I have to alert the team."

He slowly, and very carefully stepped over the body on the floor, looking for a place of exit. There was a door to the far right corner of the room, and another opposite it on the left corner as well. He took a step in to see if the right door was unlocked.

"Ugggh."

He felt something grab his ankle.

Chris spun around and immediately fired two rounds directly down towards the floor, and right through the skull of his undead attacker. The bullets blew the head into several chunks and finally the body stopped moving as a puddle of blood surrounded what remained.

He had to get out of here and find help…fast.

"Let's see what's behind door number 2," he said sarcastically as he grabbed for the door in the right corner and flung it open, running right into another zombie that had been patiently awaiting his next meal.

_Bang—Bang—Bang—_

"Chris!" Jill shouted.

"Jill I want you to go check it out." Wesker ordered.

"Not alone…I'm going with her." Barry said, taking charge.

"Very well Burton." Wesker said, "I'll stay here and check around this area for any possible help."

Jill and Barry entered into the dining room in hopes of finding Chris there, only in need of a little back up.

The room was empty.

The each took separate sides of the dinning room table, guns raised, scanning for any potential danger. They circled the table and had reached the only other door in the room with no luck as for finding anything worthwhile.

"Alright, cover me." Barry said.

Jill was glad Barry had volunteered to go with her. She knew Wesker would rather see her dead then back her up. He had never liked her since the day she was sent over from New York City's S.T.A.R.S team. He thought she was no better then a petty thief, and a blemish on his perfect record. However Barry had stuck up for her, and was almost like a second father. Backing him up on this mission made thing seem slightly less weird.

They flanked into the room glancing down each side of the hallway. The far end was entirely shrouded in darkness, but from their standpoint they could see 3 doors, all shut.

"Let's try these doors, he had to go through one of them." He said.

They each tried a door, Barry grabbing the 2 far ones and Jill reaching for the third…all locked.

"Uggh."

"I know what you mean…he had to go this way, just how?" Jill said.

"That wasn't me sighing kid." Barry replied slowly.

Jill whipped around to see figure shambling out of the darkness at the other end of the hallway. Its arms were stretched towards them, and it's moans where hollow and bone-chilling.

"Stop right there!" Jill said.

The man kept moving forward.

Jill fired a round into its leg, but it didn't seem affected at all.

"What the—" She said.

"Move, I go this." Barry said shielding her to the side.

He fired one slug out of his Colt revolver and it slammed right into the soft skull of the man walking towards them, its head exploding in a wet, powdery mess on the walls around them.

It wasn't until they approach the body that they saw the S.T.A.R.S uniform it was wearing.

"Oh no," Barry thought, "Chris."

However as he got closer he saw that it was a rather large black skinned man.

"Ken Sullivan." He said.

"Bravo Team." Jill replied.

Ken had always been a nice guy, someone everyone on S.T.A.R.S could get along with. He had two beautiful kids and a wife, and was always ready to watch Barry's girls for him as well. Barry respected the man like his own brother. Whatever made him attack them like he did was somewhere in the mansion, and needed to be eliminated before Chris met up with it too.

"Don't get hung up kid," Barry said, thinking about his own family, and how badly he wished he could see his wife and girls right now, "The sooner we find Chris the sooner we can get out of here."

"I think we should report this to Wesker." Jill said.

"Good thinking." Barry replied as they headed back towards the door to the dining room.

"Rest in peace Ken." Barry said.

Wesker watched as the two teammates headed into the dining room, the door shutting behind them.

He had known the mansion wasn't abandoned well before the team had ever set foot in the helicopter to begin with. Everything would have been going perfectly to plan, however, if Vickers hadn't decided to abandon them with minimal supplies.

"Damn you Brad," Wesker thought. This was supposed to be a test for his team…not for him. Now he was in just as much danger as they were.

He had to find a way to take control of this situation before Jill and Barry, or even Chris decided to resurface, though he was pretty sure, and rather glad that Redfield had met his demise already at the hands of some beautiful creature in the halls of this house.

Wesker never liked Redfield from day one. He was a cocky little punk who thought his shit didn't stink. He walked around as though he demanded to be treated as a superior, a rookie fighter-pilot who was grounded, but kept his head in the clouds.

He was captain material.

Wesker grinned from behind his dark sunglasses and decided he should check if the first floor ammunition shelter was unlocked, or rather still stocked enough to aide him ni any way. He moved for the door to the first floor hallway, opposite the dining room, opened it up, and walked inside.

"This should only take a moment." He thought as he walked through into the hallway. He would get some ammo, find a computer, and send his third report back to HQ within the hour.

That's when he felt the cold barrel of a pistol on the back of his head.

"Don't move you fucking S.T.A.R.S. son-of-a-bitch!" The voice said.

Just as the door to the first floor hallway shut, Jill and Barry came scrambling through the dining room back into the foyer.

"Wesker!" Barry shouted.

"Captain?" Jill echoed.

There was no response.

"You check down here, I'll check the upstairs." Barry said.

The two Alphas roamed the foyer on both levels but found nothing.

Wesker was gone.

"We have to split up and find him." Jill said.

"And Chris," Barry added.

"You take down here, and I'll look up there," Jill said.

The two nodded and went their separate ways.

"Jill, if you need anything, you know what do to…I'll be keeping an ear out." Barry said from below.

"Me too." Jill shouted.

Jill heard Barry pick a door as it opened and closed behind him. She was alone.

"Alright," she said, "cue the scary music." As she picked a door of her own and disappeared behind it.


	17. Wesker, Revealed

"They'll pay, they'll pay!"

Bryan had created a mantra for himself as he ran through the halls of the mansion, planning on killing Kenny and Richard as soon as he found them.

"Bryan, slow down man," Justin was trying hard to catch up to his friend, "Come on man, and calm down."

All this was happening too quickly for Justin. He could remember just the other day harassing his underlings on the phone, and seeing Steve in the infirmary. However it seemed like light years from the very moment he was living right now. Plus, he knew Bryan could be power-hungry sometimes, but lately he had become a whole new person…a person Justin was beginning to dislike.

Bryan continued to walk briskly, leaving Justin behind. He had to take care of what he had started, the S.T.A.R.S had to die.

Bryan had just reached the door at the end of the hallway, the door that was just outside the front hall when Justin caught up, grabbed his shoulder, and spun him around.

"What the hell is your problem man, are you going deaf or something?" he asked.

"Back off Baker, this isn't about you."

"Oh really? I never would have guessed." Justin replied sarcastically.

Bryan didn't laugh.

"Come on dude, lighten up, this wasn't any one person's fault, the appropriate measures will be taken, just not now." Justin said as he slapped his friend on the arm in hopes of loosening him up a bit.

Bryan glared at him, and then raised his pistol and aimed at Justin.

"What the fuck?" Justin exclaimed jumping back.

"Listen Baker, don't push me…I've had a rough day, and the last thing I want to have to do is shoot everything that's been going on around here, I'd hate to waste the ammo." Bryan said slowly, his gun not moving from right between Justin's eyes.

"You don't have to do this Bryan, you know that." Justin said, trying to negotiate.

_SLAM_

"What the hell?" Bryan exclaimed, spinning towards the front hall door.

Just at that moment, Justin jumped Bryan, knocking the pistol to the floor. The two scrambled for it, but Justin had always been a bit more athletic so he got to it first.

"Now," he said panting, "Calm the fuck down."

"Did you hear that?" Bryan said, ignoring Justin.

"Yea, what was it?"

"I don't know, but it came from the front hall." Bryan said, propping his ear against the door to take a better listen.

He heard a voice.

"_It was unlocked when I grabbed it."_

It sounded to Bryan like a male in his mid to late twenties. Before he could tell Justin he heard another person speak.

"_Think Bravo Team is here?"_

Another male, significantly older sounding. Bryan also heard footsteps, so he assumed there had to be more then just the two.

"What is it?" Justin asked.

"People, I think more S.T.A.R.S. I need my pistol back." Bryan said looking at him sternly.

"How about no?" Justin replied.

"I'm sorry about before, but this is for my own protection, plus you having two pistols do both you and me no good, we can do more with one each then you can with two." Bryan said taking a step in.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Justin said as he slowly slid the pistol back towards Bryan, "I swear, if you pull any funny shit, I'm shooting your ass…I swear to god."

_Thump_

"Shh, what was that noise? Wait, they're still talking," Bryan said, picking his pistol up and returning his ear to the door.

"_What was that?" _

A females voice now, she'd be no problem to take care of.

"_Sounds like it came from over there; I'll go check it out_"

A third man's voice, significantly younger then the other two.

Bryan heard a door open and shut, and then he waved Justin over.

"Put your ear up against the door and listen for me," Bryan said, "I'm going to peak through the keyhole and see what I can see."

The two men crouched next to the door and did their appropriate duties.

Bryan squinted through the small keyhole to see what he could, but it was difficult to make anything out. The room they were in was significantly darker then the front hall and that made it hard as well. The only light in their room was track lighting along two sides, which lit up various pieces of hideous artwork, and a spotlight in the center of the room lighting a horrid statue that held some kind of clay pot in its arms at head level.

He saw two people, the woman, and what he assumed was the oldest of the three men. The second man was off to the side somewhere and out of Bryan's view. The older man sat on the steps, zipping and unzipping his orange vest. The girl leaned against the railing of the stairs next to the older man, checking her ammunition.

"_Sir?"_ the female said.

"_Yes Valentine?"_ The man out of Bryan's view replied.

"_I'm still confused how this place can be kept up so well, it's been abandoned for years, why would Chief Irons tell people never to come near here if it is so beautiful?"_ Valentine said.

"_Like I said before Jill, I just don't know, but I promise we will figure it out before we leave here…good enough?"_ The same man replied.

"_Yessir." _Jill Valentine replied.

"Hey, Bryan." Justin whispered.

"Yea?"

"Doesn't one of those voices sound awfully familiar to you?"

"Yea, it does, but I can't figure it out." Bryan replied.

"Me neither." Justin said.

They went back to listening.

"_You think Chris is alright Barry?"_ Jill asked, looking at the older man

"_He can hold his own, he should be alright"_ Barry, replied.

_Bang-Bang-Bang_

Bryan and Justin both reeling back from the door in shock; Bryan quickly returning to the keyhole to spy.

"_Chris!"_ Jill shouted.

"_Jill I want you to go check it out."_ The voice off to the side ordered. .

"_Not alone…I'm going with her."_ Barry said.

The team conversed briefly over who would stay and who would go, and then the two ran off, the door slamming behind them. The left over man, the one Bryan had been unable to see to this point, wandered into the middle of the room, his back to the door.

He was tall; about six foot two, with blonde hair, and what Bryan could make out as the back of a pair of sunglasses rounding his ears. He was built very well, with muscles that showed through his uniform and he stood straight, and with purpose, which led Bryan to assume, that that, along with his ability to direct his team, he had to be captain of this group of S.T.A.R.S.

Bryan and Justin backed away from the door.

"I know that voice from somewhere, I swear it!" Justin whispered.

"Me too," Bryan said, "But I'm not sure. Anyway, there is only one left now, and we can take him."

"What?" Justin replied.

All this time they had been listening Bryan had almost forget his vendetta against anything S.T.A.R.S. and Justin had almost forgot how crazed his friend had become. But things soon returned to normal, or something resembling it.

"You heard me." Bryan said coldly, "They killed Ingrid, it's their fault, and they are all going to pay…every last one of them." Bryan said reaching for the doorknob.

That's when they heard footsteps. The man from the foyer was heading their way.

"Get against the wall…now!" Bryan whispered.

"I swear Bryan," Justin whispered as the two men put their backs against the wall on each side of the door way.

The knob turned and the door swung open.

The man walked in, and right past them, not seeing them in the shadows behind him.

Bryan stepped forward.

"Don't move you fucking S.T.A.R.S son-of-a-bitch!" Bryan said, pointing the barrel of the pistol at the back of the man's head.

Justin shut the door, closing the three men in the room, and wrapping them in the dim light.

"I suggest you put that gun back where you got it from." The familiar voice said.

"Or what?" Bryan replied.

"Or I will shove it so far up your ass you won't eat for a week." The man replied as he began to turn around.

"Stop or I'll shoot" Bryan said.

"No, you won't" The voice said.

Bryan stumbled backwards.

Standing in front of both Justin and himself was his idol, his _god_, Albert Wesker. Bryan went pale with the thought of what he had just done, pointing a gun at, and threatening to kill his superior, the one man he respected.

But before he could apologize, he caught up with himself. That's when he saw it.

The S.T.A.R.S. uniform.

Albert Wesker was standing there, fully-outfitted in a S.T.A.R.S. uniform. Bryan couldn't even understand what we saw.

"You traitorous asshole!" Bryan stammered raising his pistol again, and cocking it.

"Excuse me?" Wesker said calmly.

"I…I trusted you…**WE** trusted you….everyone here, and you, you're one of _them_?" Bryan yelled with disgust.

"Bryan calm down man," Justin said.

"Shut up! Shut up! Just shut up!" Bryan said swinging his pistol towards Justin then back at Wesker.

"Richardson and Baker, I presume?" Wesker asked, unphased by the firearm pointed at him.

"Yea," Justin replied, "How'd you know?"

"Lucky guess." Wesker replied.

"I thought I said shut up!" Bryan yelled.

"Richardson, listen," Wesker said, "If you can't calm down, and listen to what I have to say, none of this can be solved….understand?"

"Calm down? Listen? Why? You S.T.A.R.S. killed Ingrid, so you have to pay, plain and simple." Bryan responded.

"There's your first mistake." Wesker replied.

"Hmm?" Bryan asked.

"You said _YOU S.T.A.R.S._ however, I am not really a S.T.A.R.S. team member." Wesker said.

"I don't get it." Justin interjected.

"Umbrella positioned me in a place of power in Raccoon city where I could over watch process here, and maintain order there. They made me Captain of this S.T.A.R.S. team, but only as a cover-up." Wesker replied.

"Sounds legit enough," Bryan responded, slightly calmer then before, "How'd you pull it off so long though?"

"It's easier then you would have thought," he said, leaning up against the statue, "They don't ask questions when you grease the right palms."

"Alright," Bryan said, lowering his pistol, "Then why did you send your two teams in to investigate? I sent you plenty of updates, Umbrella wouldn't want them snooping around up here, especially if this was an accidental outbreak."

"Well that it was," Wesker said, "But I sent in my teams under orders different then what Umbrella and I actually expected. They were sent in under the premise of investigating disappearances in the woods. However I had the Bravo Team 'copter sabotaged, and personally lead this mission, in hopes that both teams would end up here so Umbrella could do a little "field testing" of their product, so long as the environment had been so kindly furnished."

"The T-Virus." Justin said.

"Exactly." Wesker replied.

"So, what you are saying is, is that the teams that are here are simply here as a test to see how T-Virus subjects and creatures hold up against combat situations?" Bryan asked.

"Couldn't have put it better myself," Wesker replied, "And I was on my way to send off my first report, when I was so rudely interrupted."

"Sorry, sir." Bryan said, lowering his head.

"It's alright Richardson," Wesker replied, "I'm actually glad I ran into you two. You can help me out. The mansion grounds, as you know, are huge. So my eyes alone can not witness all the trouble my teams will get into this evening. Therefore I need your help."

"I'm not so sure sir—," Justin began, but he was cut off.

"Give us orders and we will follow sir," Bryan said eager to please.

"Good," Wesker said, "I want you two to split up, and monitor what goes on from a neutral standpoint. Since we know the grounds better then any of my team, if you find them lost or slowly finding nothing to do, do what you can to lead them to another test subject, without being noticed. Every so often we will meet back in the lobby of the underground laboratory to recon. Understood?"

"Yessir," Bryan said, "We're honored to be given the privledge."

They heard a door open in the foyer.

"_Wesker?"_ Barry shouted.

"_Captain?"_ Jill echoed.

"Alright guys," Wesker said, "We have to split up now, you know what to do. We meet in the lobby in 3 hours, understood?"

"Got it, good luck sir." Bryan said as Wesker went through the door that lead back to the hallway Justin and Bryan had come from.

"Alright Justin," Bryan said, "You follow the girl, I'm sure Wesker has the older man, and I will take care of the younger one. Be careful though, there is another team of them out and about. Good luck."

"Wait Bryan, I'm not sure this is right, I mean…" Justin's words were heard only by the paintings that lined the room as Bryan had already taken off through one of the doors.

"_Jill, if you need anything, you know what to do…I'll keep an ear out."_ Justin heard the man on the other side of the door say.

The doorknob began to turn.

"Goddamnit." Justin said, taking off through another door before the man entered the room.

"This is going to be the night from hell." He thought to himself running off into the darkness.


	18. Chambers Of Horror

Rebecca Chambers was cold, wet, and lonely.

It was at least 4 hours ago that she and Billy decided to go separate ways. She really wished now that he had stayed with her. He could have kept her safe.

And warm.

It wasn't until well after that terrifying night the two had just had that she was beginning to allow herself to admit her true feelings for Billy Coen.

"Oh c'mon," she thought to herself, "he was big, and strong, good-looking, and funny…what girl wouldn't like that?"

Plus it was a perfect story to tell at parties, the cop and the ex-convict falling in love. Finding each other in the midst of terror, fighting off zombies and other monsters.

"No," she thought, "that just can't be right."

Rebecca knew, and understood very well, despite her young age, what had happened to her the night before. Everything from the helicopter crashing, to finding the train full of the walking dead, and even all the way through that horrible abandoned Umbrella Training Facility played through her head as clearly as if it was happening all over again. There was something horribly wrong with those people, those _things_, and despite all her advance medical training, they were beyond help.

Being 18, and having to live through all the death, and terror, she had already survived had changed her. She wasn't quite sure how yet, but if she knew that Bravo team wouldn't be calling her "little girl" anymore after she told them about the last 24 hours.

"But first I have to find them." She said.

As she continued to day dream, Rebecca lost track of where she was walking and tripped over a loose branch on the ground.

"Ouch!" she exclaimed.

The forests surrounding Raccoon City were dark, and wet. The sun wouldn't be up for a few more hours, and if this rain kept up, it wouldn't matter because the clouds would block out any light anyway. She was using her flashlight and a map she had found back at the training facility to find her way back to the crash site. However, when she tripped and fell the map ripped in half, and she lost part of it in the mud.

"Damn it." She said trying to find her coordinates on her slightly smaller new map.

"Alright, looks like I'm right about here," she thought, "There is no way without the rest of this map that I will be able to find the helicopter tonight."

As she continued to read the map, she noticed a building about 5 miles north east of her current location. It was simply labeled: Spencer.

"Hmm," she thought, "I need to take shelter _somewhere_, and maybe some of Bravo Team found their way there for help. If not, hopefully they at least have a phone I can use."

Rebecca had just moved to Raccoon City a few months before, and was relatively unfamiliar with her surroundings. She had grown up in the east, and was relocated out to Raccoon after she graduated at the top of her high school class. She was a biomedical wiz kid, with the savvy to make it in the S.T.A.R.S. world. The only problem is nobody cared to give her a fair shot. Since she had barely lived in Raccoon 3 months she hadn't really learned that much about the place.

Or the Spencer Estate.

She trudged off to her new destination as the rain continued to pound her already soaking wet uniform.

She tried to keep herself busy by recalling important facts she had uncovered at the facility her and Billy had found.

"The T-Virus," she thought, "is a creation of the Umbrella Corporations Biogenetic research and development team. Its purpose is to enhance bodily functions beyond the realization of pain and other performance hindering issues."

She paused.

"On the flip side," she noted, "it returns you to your most basic instincts. Your only concern becomes the need to feed on anything and everything around you."

She shuddered.

"More accurately, the need to feed on flesh, whether it is human or animal, it doesn't matter. Now if my assumptions are correct, it can travel by air, liquid, and blood or saliva transfusions, and is not limited to human contamination, but also other mammalian and insect species."

She kept talking out loud, she figured it would help her remember all this when it came time to file the report against Umbrella. Bring about the true face behind the mask that Raccoon has become accustomed too.

That and she was lonely.

The rain slowed a bit as the forest began to clear away around her and she approached the grounds surrounding the Spencer Estate. The mansions was well lit inside, and Rebecca assumed that at this hour the people inside were probably asleep, and judging by the size of the house, they could be sleeping anywhere within a mile radius of where she stood on the front lawn right now.

She approached the front door, looking for an intercom, and then she heard it. A low deep growling noise coming from behind her.

"Shit," she thought, "guard dogs, I should've assumed."

She slowly backed away from the door, and figured as long as she didn't make any sudden movements someone from inside the house would come and send the canine security on their way. However, as the growling became louder and closer, she began to notice a smell.

She couldn't quite place what it was, but remembered it distinctively from 2 places in her past.

The first was her grandmother's house. Every year her family would travel from their house half-way across the country to her grandmother's farm. When they would come there was always a large feast ready for them to sit down and eat, fresh from the kitchen. Rebecca's favorite dish was her Grandma's famous egg salad. The only down side to the delicious treat was the smell the eggs left over. It was a thick, sulfuric, rotten smell, which took forever to get used to, but was worth every second.

The second place she remembered that smell from was significantly less pleasant.

The only other place that smell connected her mind with was a horrible place. A terrifying, dead, and abandoned place. A place she thought she had escaped.

The Umbrella Training Facility.

She slowly began to turn around, hoping deep down that the dogs had egg salad for dinner that evening and had forgotten their after dinner mints. But as she turned around her worst fears, and her hypothesis all came true.

Standing within 200 feet of where she stood were what looked like 3 dogs. All three had blood dripping from their mangled lips, and skin hanging from the frail bodies. Either they had been subjected to serious torture, and somehow managed to survive, or they had been subjected to the T-Virus…

And they were hungry…

The slowly began to surround her, each one encircling her escape routes as they closed in. She hadn't had to deal with dogs at the facility. She dealt with large scorpions, and huge, slug like monster, but not dogs. Dogs were supposed to be cute, fluffy, man's best friend. Dogs were supposed to give kisses and always be there when you were sad. Rebecca loved dogs.

"Who are you kidding?" she thought to herself, "As much as you'd love to have them, they'd love to have you…for dinner."

She quickly pulled out her pistol, and hoping she wouldn't have to use it, turned and ran as quickly as she could, away from the dogs and towards the house. Her main concern was finding an entrance, and letting the owner's of the mansion know they were in danger.

She began to run around the side of the house, the dogs hot on her trail, barking, and yearning for her blood more and more with each step she took. She looked at each window for one that may have been cracked open just a tad for her to jump through.

"Ouch!" she screamed as one of the dogs tore at the back of her pant leg.

She shook it off, and kept running. She hoped all it got was her pant leg, but she didn't have time to check now. As she turned into the back yard, she noticed a trellis with vines on it that lead up to a second floor balcony with a light on. She knew it was her only hope, so long as the dogs couldn't climb too.

She ran for it and leapt into the air, her arms outstretched and grabbed on for dear life. As soon as she knew it could hold her weight, she began to climb. She kept climbing, with her attackers jumping, and barking at her heels until she was safe on the balcony above.

When she got to the top she collapsed on the balcony, panting, and assessed her leg. It looked as though, to her relief, the dog only got her pant leg, nothing else. Just to be sure, she gave herself some antibiotics out of her hip-pack, and hoped for the best.

"Alright," she said, "no more sitting around, I have to get inside."

She stood up and walked for the balcony door that led inside. As she swung it open she heard heavy breathing from the other side of the wall, and assumed someone was either exhausted, or heavily asleep right around the corner. She tiptoed around the corner, and as she approached the bed, she saw a gun lying on the nightstand next to it.

"Wow, these people sure are security crazy." She thought.

As she looked at the person in the bed, she realized how familiar he really looked. He was lanky, about 6 feet 3 inches tall, with long black hair. If he hadn't been as pale as a ghost she could've swore it was Forrest.

"Excuse me sir," she said, "Please wake up, I need your help."

The man groaned.

"I'm sorry for waking you, it's just, I'm lost in the woods, and this was the only way into your house."

The man groaned again and began to roll over.

As Rebecca was about to speak again she gasped. The man had rolled over, and his eyes were glazed over. His mouth was drooling uncontrollably, and his breath smelled like death.

If that wasn't bad enough, Rebecca saw who the monster was she was looking at.

"Oh my god," she gasped, "Forrest…is…is…oh, are you alright?"

She jumped off the bed as the creature that once was her teammate Forrest Speyer began to rise out of bed and head in her direction. She realized he wasn't himself anymore, and as much as she didn't want to have to do this, it was either his life, or hers.

She slowly raised her pistol, and as he approached closer and closer, she steadied her aim. She had done this before; the training facility horror was finally coming in handy.

She could remember every last second of it. Those creatures, with their life-less eyes, thier empty souls, just starring into oblivion, arms oustretched for a reason they couldn't fully comprehend. Their life had been snatched away from them unfaitly, and unjustly. They probably had families, or other people to come home to that would never know of their death, or strange lack there-of.

But killing _them_ was easy. It was life or death, and even though she knew these were once people, her survival instincts had created a soldier-mentality...kill or be killed. She knew there was always the possibility that something like this could happen, but she never allowed herself to think about how it would make her feel right now.

She admired the man who was now this monster standing before her, slowly approaching her. She thought of him as an ally, a friend. But she knew that he only thought one thing about _her_ anymore...

To him, she was only his next meal.

"He deserves better than this," she thought to herself, "just keep telling yourself that."

Rebecca wiped away the welling tears in her eyes, andwhen he was just close enough, she looked away and pulled the trigger. She didn't open them again until she heard the wheeze and the body slump to the floor.

"Forrest..." she whispered softly, feeling very weak and depressed.

She sat down on the bed next to him, and cried. She let all the emotions outfrom the night before, all the way up to this very moment. She was alone….it didn't matter.

Then she heard footsteps.

She tried to stop crying, but she just couldn't. Whatever was at the training facility was out and loose, the T-Virus had spread and gotten someone close to her. Now, even after she thought she escaped, it continued to haunt her and was attacking those she considered family. The tears just couldn't stop, no matter who was coming. Umbrella **had** to be stopped.

The doorknob began to turn.


	19. Spencer Commons

Bryan was growing impatient. He had been following around this guy for about forty-five minutes by now, not to mention the additional thirty minutes it had taken him to find him in the first place.

"Damn S.T.A.R.S," Bryan thought, "why couldn't they just be normal cops? That'd make this job so much easier."

Though despite his impatience he knew what Wesker wanted him to do, and if that meant having to wait for a little while, Bryan was prepared.

"Plus," he thought, "Good things come to those who wait."

He had been following Chris from the east wings that lead off of the dining hall. Bryan knew the mansion grounds like the back of his hand, but he couldn't choose exactly which fate to lead his prey to. If he could get him to double back, and take a right at men's room door, then he could probably take him right into a hunter breeding room.

"Ha," Bryan thought to himself, "that would be fun to watch."

On the other hand, however, if they continued on the path they were headed, and went past the downstairs guard's closet, he could get Redfield onto the second floor, and who knows what fun would await him there.

Bryan had lost himself in thought, when all of a sudden he heard the footsteps he had been following stop. He peered around the corner and saw Chris standing in the hall way in front of him, just kind of looking around.

"Shit," Bryan thought, "He's found the Spencer Commons."

The Spencer Commons was a room that all mansion scientist heads stored all their documents in. The room really had nothing all too spectacular in it, as most science data collected at the mansion, was not, in majority, T-Virus work. Umbrella made sure of that, so that if someone decided to break into the Spencer Commons and do a little outsource selling, by the time they found anything useful, they'd be surrounded.

Of course, those were security procedures set to operate on any normal day. And lately, there had been a severe shortage of _normal_ days at the Spencer Estate.

"If he gets in there," Bryan realized, "Wesker will have my ass on a silver platter…especially if he finds anything."

Luckily though, Bryan knew that door to the Spencer Commons was locked, and if Chris wanted to get in, he'd had to solve one of Lord Spencer's many puzzles. They didn't make it easy to get into that room for no reason. Only one scientist on the grounds had the normal key to that room, and since the outbreak Bryan had no idea whatever happened to him.

"Which puzzle is it though?" He thought.

Bryan immediately thought back to his training days. They had a whole week long seminar on the different puzzles that lay throughout the mansion. Each one specifically detailed, outlined, and then demonstrated for them. Bryan had taken copious notes, in hopes of one day needing to prove himself. Though he never thought the day would look like this, he was glad he had been so studious when given the chance.

They were on the first floor, east wing, dorm hall C. That meant that the key to the Spencer Commons room was the Knight's Treasure puzzle.

Bryan envisioned his notes in his mind.

About 10 yards from their exact position was a door on the left hand side of the hallway. It lead to an even smaller hallway, and at the end was another door. Behind that door was a chamber set up to look very much like an old renaissance castle. The walls were made to look like a dungeon, and you couldn't ask for a grimier smell if you wanted to. The hallway was only about an arms length wide, and about 30-45 feet long. At the end was a life-size coat of armor, which held up a crest. On the crest were several spikes, and at the Knight's feet there was a block with the key for the Spencer Commons.

All in all, considering most of the things one would see on any given day at the Spencer Estate, the Knight's Treasure room didn't seem all that strange or discomforting. However it was what happened when you tried to take the key that made the trap so interesting.

When the key was removed from its pedestal, the pedestal would sink into the ground, the spiked-crest would begin to spin, the knight would begin moving towards you down the narrow hallway and the only door out would lock. The only way to prevent this from happening was to get the spare fake key to put in the real keys place.

"But where," he thought, "is that other key?"

Bryan thought long and hard as he watched his prey take a sip of water from a bottle secured on his hip pack. It seemed as though Chris needed a serious rest. Especially after taking out the 6 zombies they had passed along the way.

"Hmph," Bryan said quietly, "you're just like a puppy, just a lot less fun!"

He began to laugh, and then stopped abruptly.

"Puppy," he thought, "dog collar! That's it!"

The fake key was secretly secured in a special compartment hidden inside of a tag on the collar of Michael Johnson's dog. Johnson was the head veterinarian on the mansion grounds, he didn't ask for a lot of pay. In fact his only request was that he got to keep one of the dogs that hadn't been tested on as a pet. So Umbrella decided to kill two birds with one stone. They cut Johnson's pay, gave him a Doberman, and hid the key to the Knight's Treasure inside the dog's name tag.

All Bryan had to do was find that dog and then he could—

_Bang Bang Bang_

"What the hell was that?" he heard Chris say from around the corner.

Bryan peered around and saw his subject racing off towards the source of the shots. Either one of his teammates had been put to the test, or Wesker or Justin just got overzealous.

"Oh well," Bryan thought, "I'll let him go, and in the meantime go find and that damn dog, no sense in not taking advantage of time well given."

Bryan turned around and ran off in the other direction. Whatever it was that caused those shots, whether it be friend or foe, it should be more then enough to keep Chris Redfield busy until later.

"I hope you didn't fuck this up Justin…I swear to god!" Bryan said as he ran off to find the key..


	20. Dog Day Afternoon

Bryan was running through the hallways on the Spencer Estate like a mouse in a maze. He knew Wesker would be impressed by his knowledge of his surroundings; it was just too bad that under these circumstances he had to act alone.

"Then again," he thought, "I'm not really alone, I'm part of an expert team, under the direction of Umbrella's greatest employee."

Bryan continued thinking that, as he took corners at a brisk pace, but he felt himself began to slow down, when the realization of how alone he really was began to catch up with him.

"Ingrid," he whispered, "I'm so sorry."

He stopped in the middle of one of the expansive halls of the mansion, and braced himself up against a pillar.

He began to have a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He missed Ingrid terribly, and wished that he had been quicker, even if just by a few seconds, at eliminating those S.T.A.R.S members; if he had, she'd still be here with him now.

The stomach cramp got worse.

"I guess this is how it feels to be lovesick," he said trying to maneuver into a more comfortable position, "that, or gas."

He felt a pain in his chest slowly getting worse and worse as he slid his back against the pillar and took a seat on the ground.

"I'm to young to be having a heart attack," he thought, "I'm in top physical condition, Umbrella wouldn't have it any other way."

He felt a cold sweat running through his body, and his vision became blurry. He began to shake, and everything around him grew dark and hazy.

"I…don't….understand," Bryan sputtered, as his teeth chattered together.

Then, just as quickly as it had began, everything returned to normal, and Bryan regulated his breathing while lying in a puddle of his own sweat.

"I just don't get it," he said to himself as he sat up and checked his pulse, "That's the third time this has happened in the last two months, what the hell is wrong with me?"

These "attacks" he had been having started out as cramped muscles, and then as time went by he seemed to unnaturally develop stronger limbs, keener eyesight, and even better hearing after each attack. But in recompense each attack got worse and worse every time.

Bryan slowly began to stand-up, and after regaining his bearings, he realized he had only been a few steps away from the correct dormitory before his little break down.

"Alright," he said to himself as he stood up and straightened out the wrinkles in his clothes, "let's finish this."

Bryan walked up to the door of Michael Johnson's dorm, and out of habit knocked on the door.

"Jesus Christ," he said, "who the hell am I kidding?"

He grabbed the doorknob and turned.

_Click_

The door was locked.

Bryan removed his pistol from his waist and shot one shell into the doorknob knocking the lock clear out of the door, and splintering wood all over the place.

"Lucy," Bryan shouted as he kicked the door in, putting on his thickest Puerto Rican accent, "I'm home!"

-----

Chris heard the gun shots coming from the end of the hallway. He knew it had to be Jill, or Wesker in trouble, if it had been Barry the shots would have been much louder. He ran until the hallway dead-ended , and all that was left was a staircase.

"What the hell," he thought, "I **know** the shots came from this direction."

There hadn't been a room the whole way from that room with the strange key-hole all the way to these stairs, so where could the shots have come from?

Just then he heard it.

It was soft at first, and hard to hear that it had been coming from the top of the step for quite sometime. It was sad sound, but very soft, and almost innocent.

It was a girl, and she was crying.

"Jill!" Chris thought.

He ran up the stairs, following the noise. If Jill had been shot, or hurt trying to shoot something then he'd have to radio for help. Chris had been in the air force for a long time, but he knew nothing about medically aiding a wounded ally.

"When it comes to being a fighter pilot," he thought as he checked his C/B radio to make sure it was still in working order, "there isn't much you can do for a downed ally ."

When he finally found the door that had the crying coming from the other side he hesitated before turning the knob. He began to wonder, if after all the weird happenings so far this evening, if he could trust his instincts, and just barge in hoping it was Jill. For all he knew it could just as easily be some kind of trap.

He withdrew his Beretta, and slowly turned the doorknob. When he opened the door he noticed that familiar odor begin to waft past his nose, and immediately went into attack mode slamming the door open, his gun aimed outward.

"Stop right there, you," he hesitated at what he saw, "scared, um…little girl? Wait, Rebecca?"

After taking a moment to realize who he was looking at, Chris lowered his pistol and ran to the aide of his fellow S.T.A.R.S. team member. She seemed to have been crying for quite some time now.

He could see that she must've gone through a serious ordeal to be this upset, but he figured if he could calm her down she could take him to the other Bravo Team members.

"Rebecca, it's alright, it's me Chris, I'm here now." He said wrapping his arms around her.

"Chris, I…he…well," Rebecca stuttered surprisingly in between gasps for breath and sniffles through her stuffed nose. She had thought she was alone, how long had other S.T.A.R.S. members been here?

"It's ok, just take a deep breath kiddo," comforting Rebecca reminded Chris of his younger sister Claire, it was just the kind of detachment he needed to try to make sense of this crazy evening.

"No," she said, pushing him back, "no, its not, I killed him." Rebecca said, sobbing.

"Killed who?" Chris asked.

Rebecca wiped her eyes and nose with her sleeve and then pointed over Chris's shoulder. As he turned around and saw what she was pointing at, the images of his sister were shattered and he was quickly re-introduced to the cold reality he was currently dealing with.

On the floor in front of him was his ally, and best friend, Forrest Speyer, dead, with a bullet wound right between his eyes.

"Rebecca," Chris said, with his back to her, "_You_ did this?"

"You don't understand," Rebecca said, once again panting for breath, "he wasn't himself anymore, he was…he was—."

"A zombie." Chris cut her off solemnly.

"You know?" Rebecca asked.

"I'm beginning to understand," Chris said, "where are the others?"

"The others?" Rebecca asked.

"You know," he replied, "the rest of Bravo Team, why did you split up after the crash?"

"Oh," Rebecca said, "I don't know, I don't even know if they are all alive, let alone in the mansion. After the crash we found an overturned police transport vehicle, the convict had escaped, the guards murdered, and we split up to try to find the escapee. I found a train, and…and…" her eyes began to well up again.

Chris slowly got up from the corpse of his friend and stepped backwards. He turned to Rebecca and sat down next to her on the bed, rubbing her back.

"Relax, just speak slowly, I need you to tell me what happened." He said.

She took a deep breath and continued.

"I found this train, and everyone on the train was dead. Well, I _thought_ they were dead. I even checked a few to see if I could save them, but they had no pulse. Then one of them got up and tried to attack me, but the convict, Billy Coen, saved my life."

"Billy Coen?" Chris asked, "Did you arrest him? Is he here with you?"

Rebecca paused, thinking of Billy, and how much she missed him.

"No. You see, the train started to move again, and Billy and I ended up in this strange Umbrella Training Facility. We ran in to all sorts of these undead things, as well as other strange monsters, and one of the scientists there had been transformed into a," she paused, "well, this may seem strange, but into a giant slug monster."

"A slug monster?" Chris asked.

"Yes. Something called the T-Virus had changed him, as well as all the other things into the walking-dead. Umbrella has been working on it top secret for many years both in Raccoon and here in the mountains, but there was an outbreak."

"Did you kill this slug thing?" Chris asked.

"No. In fact it would have killed me if Billy hadn't saved my life. We worked together to get out of that horrible place ali—." She stopped.

"What?" he asked, "What happened to Coen, is he still alive?"

"Um," Rebecca hesitated, she knew Billy was innocent, but Chris wouldn't listen, she had to cover for him, "No," she said solemnly, "there was an explosion, and the whole facility caved in, some sort of security self-destruct mechanism. As far as I know, I'm the only one who made it out alive."

"I'm sorry you had to deal with that Rebecca, and with this," Chris said pointing to what used to be Forrest Speyer on the floor, "But if you don't know where the rest of your team is we have to get moving. Will you be alright with me?"

"Yes," Rebecca replied. She wasn't sure if she was prepared to handle what lied ahead of them, but she knew she couldn't stay here…not alone.

The two stood up and began to head out of the room when a strange man ran right into Chris knocking them both to the floor.

"What the hell?" Chris screamed, "Who the fuck are you?"

---

Bryan had found the dog, long since expired, in its cage on the floor. Since it had not been infected to begin with, it seemed to have just died because after Johnson's death in the past few days, there had been nobody to feed it.

He felt bad for the poor, sad looking, slumped over sack of flesh.

"Hmph," he thought, "compassion is overrated."

He removed the key from the dog tag and then left the room. He knew he'd have to hurry to catch up with Chris, unless he'd be lucky enough to have found that whatever had caused those gun shots had decided to do a repeat performance on his poor prey.

After running like no other he had finally back-tracked to the Spencer Commons and then continued on down the hall in the same direction he had saw Chris go. He knew he had to have gone to the upper level grounds maintenance dorms, because that was the only way out of this particular wing of the house, is he kept going in this direction.

Bryan wasn't sure where he'd find Chris, but he hoped he could still remain hidden until he had a chance to create some kind of plan to corner him and get his revenge.

He reached the stair case and ran up the stairs, looking for some kind of evidence that Chris had been nearby.

He began to think of all the different ways he could trap Chris in this new wing of the house. He could leave him out on the balcony to the prey of the graveyard's residents, or a passing crow or two. Or he could lead him down and into the backyard of the mansion down to Lisa Trevor's _illustrious_ little holding cell.

He shuddered at the thought.

After George Trevor had gone mad, Umbrella thought it was the perfect opportunity to take clear and dangerous advantage of the loved ones he left behind. His wife had been subject to the sexual lusts and desires of many a lonely scientist, and his daughter was destined to be the first carrier of a new virus strain, that was supposed to adapt to humans better, where the t-virus has so poorly failed.

The new virus was called the g-virus, but was still very much in the testing phase. It was clearly not ready for human development, but that had never stopped Umbrella before. After each treatment the girl slowly began to change, and mutate, until eventually she had lost control of her motor functions and had succumbed to the G-Virus. She was then locked, and shackled in an old gardener's shed on the grounds of the mansion, and monitored every day.

Bryan could only imagine what had happened to her since the outbreak. Then again, he didn't really want to.

Just as he was coming out of his daydream Bryan saw an open door and a light ahead, and he heard voices, but it was too late. He was running to fast to slow down in enough time to hide, and it seemed like whoever was in the room was getting ready to leave.

"Please don't let it be one of those zombies" Bryan repeated in his mind over and over again.

As the bodies stepped out into the hallway Bryan felt relief running through his body, followed by a heaping amount of pain as he crashed, face first into the body of the man he had been so elusively pursuing.

The two men crashed to the floor.

"What the hell?" Chris screamed, "Who the fuck are you?"

Bryan sat up slowly and shook his head to stop the room from spinning around him. He though as fast as he could to come up with a response that would leave him in the clear.

"Thank god," he said quickly and panicked, "Thank god you are here. I thought I was alone, I was so scared!"

"It's alright sir," Chris said, standing up and extending a helping hand down to Bryan, 'I'm with the Raccoon City S.T.A.R.S. team and I promise you everything is under control."

"Yes," Bryan replied as he stood up and an eerie smile swept over his face, "that it is."


	21. Crash, into me

"Alright," Chris said, wearily, "I'm only going to ask one more time. What is your name sir?"

Bryan thought he could have gotten away without answering this one. He wondered the possibility that somehow, somewhere, Chris was warned by his colleagues, to be on the watch-out for Charles Worley, the alias he had taken before. He had to think fast.

He thought rapidly of names from his past, names of workers at the mansion who had become infected, names of celebrities, authors, anyone and everyone, but everything seemed too suspicious.

"Sir, are you alright?" said a worried looking Rebecca.

Bryan snapped out of his daze, sputtering out the first name that crossed his mind.

"Um, William, William Trysdale…running into you kind of dazed me a bit there." Bryan was screaming on the inside at his evident stupidity.

"William Trysdale?" Chris asked, Bryan could sense the disbelief in his voice.

"Mind if I call you Billy?" The young girl interjected.

"Sure, why not." Bryan said, he was relieved to see the naiveté of the young girl had eased the tension on Chris's part.

"So, um, Billy, you seemed to be in quite a fright a moment ago, is there someone chasing you?" Chris asked.

"Not someone," Bryan replied, "Some_thing_. I don't know how long you've been here, but if you haven't run into one of these undead monsters, then you are luckier than you have any idea."

"No, we have seen them before, but," Chris said patting his holster, "We S.T.A.R.S can be seriously persuasive under pressure." He chuckled.

Bryan threw-up a little bit in his mouth out of utter disgust for this incompetent policeman, and his complete lack of wit.

"Anyway," Bryan continued, "I used to be a grounds-keeper here before this disaster occurred, and there is a safe house down this way. If we can get there we can contact the local authorities and get out of here."

"We are the local authorities." Rebecca replied solemnly.

"Well you can't be the entire force of authorities, now can you?" Bryan replied.

"Let's just say we aren't the only ones here Bill." Chris replied hastily.

"Chris," Rebecca said touching his arm, "I think we should listen to him. I mean, he may be of more help to us right now than you give him credit for."

Once again Bryan watched as the young girl eased the discomfort that Chris had for Bryan. If it had just been the two of them Bryan realized he would have probably had to result to force by now. Just to be safe he counted his ammo in his head.

"Alright Trysdale, lead the way, we'll cover you from behind."

Bryan began to lead the two around the mansion. He played with the key for the Knight's Treasure puzzle in his right pocket as he walked. He didn't realize that the second person was not only going to be an S.T.A.R.S member, but a young girl. It wasn't so much the fact that she was a woman that inspired slight compassion in his hardened heart, but the fact that she slightly resembled Ingrid in several ways.

Seeing this, Rebecca, was as close to Ingrid as Bryan would ever get again, and killing her would be killing Ingrid's memory forever. He had to make a new plan.

As they rounded the corner to the hall that held the Knight's Treasure Puzzle, Bryan began to formulate.

"I could lock them in one of the various dormitories," he thought, "but then again with a bullet they could easily blow out a lock or window."

As they passed the door, the only solution possible came to him. It was a long shot, but he would have to lead them out of the mansion, through the garden, and into the hidden research and development labs at the back of the mansion grounds, all at the same time as keeping them unsuspicious and hoping not to encounter Wesker, Justin, or their prey.

In the basement of the labs was a prison holding cell for trespassers and unruly test subjects alike. They were 100 feet underground, and the walls were 6 feet of concrete on 3 sides, and a 6 inches of steel for a door. There was no way they'd be escaping that. So long as he could keep them down there until everything else could be handled, he would then have time to figure out how to dispose of chris and woo the lovely Rebecca.

As much fun as it would've been to see Lisa Trevor dismantle Chris limb from limb, the risks just weren't worth the gains.

He stopped dead in his tracks.

"C'mon Trysdale, we don't have much time. Did you forget which way to go or something?" Chris asked impatiently.

"No, no not at all," Bryan replied, "right this way."


	22. Wesker's Report 3

FirstClass Email System

Subject: Procedure Update

To: White Umbrella

From: Capt. Ablert Wesker

The mansion infiltration could have afforded to be a much easier, do to unforeseen, but greatly appreciated shortcomings amongst my team, one Joseph Frost, S.T.A.R.S officer, met his demise amongst a roaming pack of Cerberi. They presented a nearly unmatchable challenge, which caused another of my team, one Bradley Vickers, S.T.A.R.S Vehicle Specialist, to strand myself, and my team with no other option but to enter the mansion.

Upon entering them mansion I began to split my team into factions, as to accommodate to our original "search and rescue" initiative. Upon sending off my remaining team members, I believe that at least one, a Chris Redfield, S.T.A.R.S officer, has been incapacitated by one of our roaming t-virus carriers, or more affectionately, "zombies", I was confronted by our two "fail-safe procedure" operatives Bryan Richardson and Justin Baker.

It does not seem as though to original "vaccine" has begun to take affect on either of them , however given time, I'm sure they will succumb to the ultimate power that their particular strain was designed for. Neither of them, for that matter, seems to be suspicious of their lack of infection, and are now currently aiding me in testing our creatures by leading my remaining team members into peril, and then reporting back to me the results.

As the updates come in, they shall be forwarded to you.

Sincerely,

Albert Wesker

**_-Close Program FirstClass-_**

**_-Open Program SecureServer-_**

SecureServer Email System

Subject: Extraction

To: Black Eagle

From: Wesker

I'm in. Umbrella suspects nothing.

So long as they continue to receive their updates, and so long as my "team" gets eliminated as I have planned, I should be able to extract the T-Virus sample without any difficulty.

To make these emails easily encryptable I will have to keep them short.

If you want the sample, bring the cash.

Otherwise, I'm sure there are other buyers.

-Wesker-


	23. Wesker Revealed, Again?

Barry had been wandering this house for hours and found nothing. No Bravo's, no survivors, and certainly no help. What he had found however were several zombies, and enough stress to turn his entire stomach into an ulcer.

While working his way through one of the many identical hallways, he had found a room with several pictures lining the walls, and an insignia that referenced the pictures. It seemed as though it was some kind of puzzle, wherein if you pushed the buttons under the pictures in a certain order something would happen. At first Barry had been slightly cautious about trying it, but the room was very relaxing, it had an open air ceiling and birds were flying in and out, it made the whole room seem slightly less creepy.

"I should've known better," Barry said to himself as he rubbed his left bicep.

It wasn't long until he realized the consequences of messing up the puzzle he had discovered. The ceiling wasn't open, it had a mesh wire cover, and the birds in the room were not forest creatures, but prisoners who were forced to perch on wires above. Whenever he got the order incorrect the birds would get electrocuted and attack him from above. It didn't take much to make him flee the room and stop trying.

"And now, I'm wandering yet another of these goddamn identical hallways on the way to my next death trap."

Barry was beginning to wonder who the hell would want a mansion like this. It didn't make sense. Traps and puzzles, zombies dressed up in lab coats and other types of science apparel, and just the sheer magnitude of the entire evening this far, was perplexing enough. Plus, as tough as he was, being alone was starting to creep him out. The sooner he found Chris, and the Bravos, the better.

Just then, Barry passed something that caught his attention. As he walked around the corner, from one hallway to the next, he saw a door cracked open a bit, and a stream of light coming out from underneath it. Now of course, someone could have just left the light on, but Barry was still precautious.

"It could be nothing," Barry said, "but this ain't no Motel 6."

He removed his Colt from its holster and slowly approached the door. The closer he got, he could hear a voice coming from inside, as well as the sound of keys tapping. It didn't take long until he recognized the voice.

"Wesker!" He said to himself.

What could Wesker be doing using a computer here? In fact, Barry was curious how the man would even have known there was a computer somewhere in the mansion in the first place. Barry had seen a ton of typewriters thus far, but never a computer. It just seemed all very suspicious. He got closer and took a listen.

"_The mansion infiltration could've afforded to be much easier, due to unforeseen, but greatly appreciated shortcomings amongst my team.."_

"Mansion infiltration?" Barry thought, "greatly _appreciated_ shortcomings?" For an email back to HQ it didn't sound like dear old Captain Wesker thought very highly of his team.

"No," Barry thought, "Something is wrong, I better keep listening."

"_and are now currently aiding me in testing our creatures by leading my remaining team into peril, and then reporting back to me the results. As updates come in they shall be forwarded to you. Sincerely, Albert Wesker, White Umbrella."_

"White what?" Barry thought to himself.

Did his own captain just say that this whole mansion was nothing more then a scam and that, of all people, the Umbrella Corporation was involved? Barry couldn't believe his ears. He never liked Wesker, couldn't find it in himself to trust him since day one, but he never actually thought those beliefs were well founded; he always just thought Wesker was too cocky for his job, but never a traitor.

Barry heard a chair push across the floor, Wesker was getting up.

"Shit, shit, shit!" Barry thought, "What the hell am I going to do?"

Barry moved to the other side of the door, so as to be hidden when it swung open. He cocked his Colt, and was ready to nab Wesker the second he left the room.

As Barry tried to suppress his heavy breathing, he heard footsteps. Then slowly the door began to swing entirely open. As soon as the door had opened as far as it could with Barry behind it, Barry slammed it shut behind Wesker and immediately put the barrel of his gun to the back of Wesker's head.

"Don't even _think_ about moving you son-of-a-bitch!" Barry exclaimed.

Wesker sighed. "Twice in one night, what are the odds?" he muttered.

"What was that?" Barry asked, pushing the barrel into Wesker's blonde hair, just to remind him who was in charge now.

"Eh, nothing, Burton, do you mind my asking what you intend to do with that?"

"I'm a lot older then you kid," Barry replied, "and even _I_ would know what a colt to the head means. You're under arrest."

"What are the charges, officer?" Wesker sneered sarcastically.

"Conspiring against police orders, fraternizing with an outside source, and just being an all-around dick." Barry replied.

"I see," Wesker said, "but I'm not following you."

It seemed, to Barry, that not only was Wesker playing dumb, but he apparently didn't care about the fact that his "mission" had killed Joseph, and possibly killed Chris, or whoever else was lost in the mansion.

"You asshole, innocent people are dead because of you, and _you aren't following me_?" Barry mocked. "Give me one good goddamn reason I shouldn't pull the trigger right now?"

"Well, let me think," Wesker replied. He calmly continued, "The only reason I can come up with is that I don't think you're the kind of man to put your family at risk to bring me down."

"What?" Barry asked.

"I'd be glad to explain, but of course, you can always just shoot me and find out for yourself."

Barry gritted his teeth. "Turn around," he said lowering his colt, "but don't try anything funny."

Wesker turned around.

"Well, I'm not entirely sure how long you've been standing outside that room while I had been typing." He said. "But I am going to assume that you know as much as I typed. Therefore, you are wondering 3 things right now. One, why is your family in danger. Two, how is umbrella involved. And three, who is my buyer?"

"Your what?" Barry replied.

"Scratch number three then," Wesker said. "Allow me to make this short and sweet Mr. Burton, I work for a division of Umbrella Inc. known as "White Umbrella". If you haven't already been able to this out, the mansion you are standing in, used to be one of our research and development centers, until a breakout of one of our virus strains got loose and infected most of the people working and living here. I was placed as S.T.A.R.S. Captain in Raccoon, so I could monitor what went on in this facility, and prevent outsiders from getting in. When I was informed of the outbreak, I thought, what better an opportunity then this to test what our creations were capable of, and so I sent in my teams to do a little "field test", if you will."

"Bravo Team's helicopter?" Barry asked.

"Precisely," Wesker answered, "I took it upon myself to do some rewiring, however faulty it may have been, to their systems, and figured that they alone would be enough of a test, however, after splitting up I received no response from them in terms of who had been killed, where and how, as I had expected I would get. So I sent us is, as reluctant as I was to get myself involved, I figured that at least this way I could monitor the progress by myself. Which brings me to the issue of your family."

"What the hell did you do to them you asshole?" Barry said, approaching Wesker.

"Down Hercules," Wesker replied, smiling from behind his black sunglasses, "I figured that bringing myself here could only lend to the possibility of getting caught somehow, and as I could never see Valentine or Redfield being capable enough to sneak up on me, I figured I should have a contingency plan in place. The moment we left I already had a team of my best assassins en route to your house, where they are currently poised in the shadows waiting for my command. If you don't listen to my every command, or if I sense the least bit of reluctance on your part from here on in, all I have to do is make one phone call, and you'll never see your wife or daughters again. Understood?"

"Not a very good contingency plan if you ask me," Barry said raising his colt again.

"Why is that?" Wesker asked.

"Because if I shoot you now, they will never get that phone call." Barry replied as he began to take aim.

"Very good Barry, very good, but not good enough however," Wesker replied, "because I also have told them that every hour on the hour I will cal and check in on them, and if I don't call them on the hour, that too is a command to strike. So please, shoot if you must."

Wesker's evil smile was only matched by the cold, eerie effect given off by the sunglasses he wore. Barry knew there was nothing he could do, no matter how badly he wanted to cap Wesker right here and now, his family was at risk, and he could never forgive himself if he allowed anything to happen to them, even if it meant letting the bad guy win.

Barry lowered his colt, he looked down at the floor, and "What do you want me to do?" he said in defeat.

"Ah, now there's a good boy," Wesker said, "I need you to go ahead and make sure that any and all Bravos still alive on the mansion grounds appropriately meet their match, as I have a feeling that at this point they may start heading back through the woods to Raccoon, and we cannot afford this information being linked to the public. Umbrella could easily cover it up, but it'd hurt my paycheck if they had to. I'm sure you understand. I'll be watching you though Burton…so don't go heroic on me if you want your family to be safe. Keep that in mind."

Wesker turned around and jogged off down the hallway without saying another word. Barry stood alone in the dimly lit hallway feeling very confused and helpless. Wesker had the upper hand, and his family was in danger, there was no other option he had but to obey Wesker's every sick wish and desire. He shuddered at the thought.

"I'm too old for this shit." Barry said as he went off in the opposite direction.

He knew what he had to do, no matter how difficult it may be. The Bravos, once his brothers, were now his enemy. It would take him a considerable amount of time to find any of them, if there were still any alive to begin with, on a grounds this size, so he had time to plan as he searched.

Plan on how to bring Wesker down, once and for all.

"Don't think you've won yet Wesker," Barry thought, "this battle is just beginning."


	24. Marini: Shaken, Not Stirred

Enrico Marini felt as though he'd been walking in circles all night.

"Is this place just some giant circle or something?" he said.

Ever since he had left Forrest back in that room he had been meandering his way through as many different paths as he could find in the back yard of the Spencer Estate. There were several different outcomes, none of which he particularly enjoyed running into, but it seemed every time he thought he had found something new, he always ended up right back where he started.

"How the hell did anyone ever find their way around this place in the dark? I mean, c'mon, I have to be missing something." Enrico thought as he took a break and sat down on the soft, wet ground he had trampled over so many times before this evening.

It had been awhile since he had seen the back of the mansion. Even though he had been wandering in circles he had managed to lose himself pretty deep in the surrounding forest of the property; however he knew he wasn't lost yet because earlier that evening both Forrest and himself had to climb over a barbed wire fence that separated the estate grounds from the surrounding woods, and he hadn't jumped any fences since.

"I could definitely use a break," he said as he removed his water bottle from his hip pack and took a sip, "I wonder how Forrest is holding up."

He set his S.T.A.R.S issue Nalgene water bottle on the ground next to him, and leaned his back against the wall he had sat down near, in order to better assess his surroundings.

He kept ending up right back at the same spot, another graveyard, and this one with slightly less distinguished and dirtier grave stones then the Spencer burial grounds he and Forrest had found earlier. Seventy-five percent of the area was graves, then there were trees, and the occasional creepy statue, and then in the center a staircase down to what Enrico believed to be an underground mausoleum, and the only place he hadn't explored yet. In fact the whole area seemed rather busy with stuff, but the area he was in was apparently sanctioned for new grave sites, but never used. He sat in an open field about forty-feet wide and long. It seemed freshly tilled, but horribly under-kept. There was no grass planted, but just chunks of dirt and grass strewn about as if a giant tilling machine came through and ground up the area, but left without repairing any of it.

"Some grounds crew," Enrico chuckled as he reached for his water bottle to take another drink.

Just then something caught his eye.

The water, in his water bottle, was vibrating slightly. It seemed as though some form of weak tremor was spreading through the ground, as Enrico couldn't feel any shaking, but his water was showing the vibrations.

"Strange," he thought, "the Arklay Mountains aren't normally prone to earthquake activity."

Just then he started to feel it. The vibrating got progressively worse, and seemed to get more violent with every second that went by. He braced himself on the wall and stood up, but could barely move around without falling down from the shaking.

"Something is wrong here, this can't be an earthquake," he thought.

Just then, amidst the rumbling, he heard it. A high pitch, continuous roar, almost to the pitch of a dog whistle, but just low enough to be ear-piercingly painful.

And it was coming from right underneath him.

Something was coming up from underneath the ground, and whatever it was, it wasn't happy.

"Holy shit!" Enrico exclaimed as he grabbed his water bottle and ran for the grave yard.

Just as he had gotten away from where he previously sat, a gigantic worm, at least twenty-feet wide, and so long that more then half of it was buried underground, came flying out of the ground, and slammed down knocking Enrico to the ground. It had no eyes or other facial features, but simply one large circular mouth, with razor sharp teeth inside the entire circumference. If its battle cry had been hard to handle from underground, what it was wailing now could've made Enrico's ears begin to bleed.

It lunged for Enrico's leg, and was able to sink one of its teeth into his calf before Enrico shot it in the mouth and pulled away.

"I've got to get away from this thing, and fast." Enrico decided.

He made the quickest choice he could, and began to run of the mausoleum. Half way there he realized that if he was going to go underground it may be in his best interest to stall his attacker, if not at least stun it somewhat until he could find some way of getting out of the underground burial site and to a safer location. Without a second's hesitation he turned around, facing the beast, which was still collecting it's bearing from emerging from underground, and tossed his last fragmentation grenade at the wall behind the monster. He dove for cover inside the mausoleum's stairwell, and after the explosion, peaked out to see if his plan had worked.

Where there had once been a gigantic worm, and a wall old enough to almost have fallen itself, was now a mess of smoke, blood, and stone. The wall, as planned, had collapsed on top of the worm, which, since it did not seem to be above the surface anymore, must've retreated back underground in either pain or fear. Now all there was were the remnants of worm skin and blood, which stained the stones that now covered up the hole the creature had left in the ground. Enrico was hoping that this would keep the monster at bay until he could find a way out of the underground tunnel he had now found himself in.

He turned around and looked at his new location.

It was a small tunnel, only slightly wider then his own shoulder-width, and not much taller then himself either. It was dimly lit by what seemed to be kerosene torches that hung from the ceiling, and was adorned with spider-webs, and other various gross obstacles, which had developed from what one could assume to be years of poor care.

"Apparently I was wrong," Enrico thought, realizing this was no mausoleum, "I s'pose you can't judge a book by its cover."

He checked himself for any other cuts or bruises. In diving down the stairs he had twisted his ankle, and from the looks of things cut his arm pretty badly. However his main concern was his bleeding leg. He ripped off part of his shirt, and used it as a band-aid, braced himself on the wall, and began a slow limping process down the newly found tunnel. He recounted his ammo situation in his head, and just to be safe, decided it be best not to holster his pistol at this point, it would take to long to brace himself to remove it later if that worm came back.

The limp down the hall was relatively uneventful, which, to Enrico, came across as a rather double-edged sword.

"It's quite, too quite." He said to himself, chuckling. Everything seemed so horror-movie-dramatic he couldn't help himself but be corny, even in the face of danger.

He approached what looked like a fork in the road, as he saw light spilling from around a corner to his right. He could either continue forward down the hall, which seemed to go off to the left and up another staircase to the surface, or off to the right and down another hall. As he came near the fork he heard a familiar voice, talking on what he could gather to sound like a walkie-talkie.

"_Yes captain, I've been looking, but I don't think they are here."_

He heard the walkie-talkie click out, and then back in.

"_I know, but I don't even know where to lead them. Hell, I'm no liar, and they're Bravos sir, they are S.T.A.R.S just like me, they'll know I'm lying."_

"Barry?" Enrico thought. But who could he be talking too, and what would he need to lie about?

"_I'm totally against this sir, there has to be a different way. I…no sir, um…I understand."_

The walkie-talkie clicked out. Enrico had to get a closer spot to listen from. He began to limp forward.

"_Just, relax, I'll do it. Alright? I should have just enough am-"_

Just then Enrico's bad ankle found a loose stone that went out from underneath him.

"Ouch!" He yelled as he collapsed to the floor.

"_I have to go sir. Burton out."_

Just then Barry Burton came running around the corner to find Enrico sitting on the ground cradling his wound and sprained ankle.

"Enrico! Am I glad to see you! Are you alright?" Barry asked as he fell to the floor next to his comrade.

"I'm…I'm fine, Barry" Enrico replied, weak, tired and confused.

"Good, good, you look hurt though. Let me move you into the light so I can take a look at you better." Barry said as he helped Enrico up and moved him into the light of the hallway he had just come from.

Enrico sat up against the wall, feeling the fatigue from his battle with the worm, combined with the loss of blood, pain in his ankle, and this situation with Barry finally catching up to him. He needed to rest, but could he trust Barry enough to do so?

"How," Enrico strained to talk, "How did you get down here?"

"Your wiped out," Barry replied, "Don't worry about it, just be glad I found you in time. Here, take this." Barry pulled a little green pill out of a bottle in his hip-pack. "It should help slow the bleeding."

Enrico took the pill and washed it down with water from his bottle.

"Alright," Barry said, "You rest here, and I'll run off and find some help." He ran off down the hall and disappeared into the darkness of the shadows.

Just then, as Enrico began to doze off he heard fast-paced footsteps, and a girl's voice.

"_Holy shit, what the fuck was that thing!"_

"Jill!" Enrico shouted as best he could, "Is that you?"

Just then Jill Valentine came running down the hall, covered in dirt and sweating pretty badly. Enrico assumed she must've had a run in with the same worm from before.

"Jill," he said, weaker then he was before, "I need you to listen to me. Something is very wrong here."

"Enrico," she replied, "oh my god, are you alright? You look horrible."

"That's not important, listen, something is wrong here, you aren't safe."

"Trust me," Jill said, "I know, there are zombies everywhere."

"That is not what I mean Jill, there is something sinister going on here amongst our team, and I think there is a traitor in our S.T.A.R.S." Enrico said, he could feel it getting harder and harder to speak, he needed to rest, but this was important.

"A traitor?" Jill said surprised. "Who?"

"Well I heard two of them talking right here. It seemed as though they want to kill us off one by one." He replied.

"Who were they Enrico? Are you sure?" Jill said.

"Yes, I am," Enrico replied, "I'm not sure who they were talking to over their walkie-talkie, but the person I saw was—."

Just then a loud bang rang off the walls of the small tunnel.

Jill jumped back, and looked down to see Enrico slump over in a heap to the ground.

He had been shot.

"Oh my god," Jill said, trying to accept what just happened. Enrico was right, there _was_ a traitor, and whoever they were, they were right down this hallway.

"I'm sorry Enrico," she said, "I won't let them get away with this."

Jill got up and ran off into the darkness after the attacker.

**-----**

Barry knew that if Wesker had seen him helping Enrico instead of killing him, then his family would be as good as gone, so he had to do _something_ to keep Wesker happy. The pill he had given Enrico was actually an aspirin, whish actually loosens blood, as opposed to help slow down any bleeding.

"It's a cheap shot," Barry thought to himself, "but I don't have the heart to shoot a friend, at least this way he'll die in his sleep."

He turned around to make sure Enrico had decided to rest, and then he heard it.

"_Jill! Is that you?"_

Enrico must've heard someone coming down from the other staircase. If it was Jill, and if Enrico had actually heard Barry's walkie-talkie conversation with Wesker, then things could get very messy. Barry panicked as he listened.

"_That is not what I mean Jill, there is something sinister going on here amongst our team, and I think there is a traitor in our S.T.A.R.S."_

"Shit," Barry thought, "he _did_ hear what I said."

Barry began to think about his options. He didn't have much time, and if he let Enrico keep talking to Jill then she would find out about him, and then his family would be as good as dead. He loved Enrico, like a brother, but he couldn't let Wesker kill his wife and daughters, he finally began to realize what his situation really meant.

"Kill or be killed." He said to himself solemnly as he removed his colt from its holster and began to take aim from the shadows.

"_Yes, I am, I'm not sure who they were talking to over their walkie-talkie, but the person I saw was—."_

It was the moment of truth.

BANG

Barry looked away and pulled the trigger, then watched his teammate, his colleague, and his friend, slump over face first in a dead heap on the floor of the tunnel.

"Enrico," he said, "I'm so sorry."

Barry turned and ran off into the darkness; he couldn't let Jill catch him.

"Please don't follow me Jill," Barry thought, "I don't want to have to hurt you."


	25. A Secret Rendezvous

Of all the classes Justin took in school, Phys Ed had always been his least favorite. Mind you, as fun as dodge-ball and kickball were, it was the running track that always felt like boot camp.

"Then again," Justin thought, "even boot camp seems more inviting then the events of late."

Justin had been following Jill for over two and a half hours at this point, leading her from hallway to hallway, and puzzle to puzzle, and somehow managed to stay completely out of sight. However, though he had remained physically uninvolved, it was the emotional aspect that was tearing away at his conscience.

If Justin had ever, for even one iota of a nanosecond been the least bit interested in Bryan and Wesker's crazy plan, he couldn't remember why. After the death, and moral destruction he had witnessed simply by following Jill from room to room over the course of the evening, he had become a changed man.

At first Jill was his enemy. His orders were to make sure she didn't make it out alive, and if she happened to overcome all the obstacles he put in her way, she wasn't to leave in a mentally stable condition. At first this seemed like a difficult if not seemingly impossible task, but with everything that had happened so far, it didn't seem that hard any longer.

Justin took a deep breath, shut his eyes, and slowly slid his back against the tunnel wall until he hit the cold ground below him. He knew this tunnel relatively well, and considering that Jill probably did not know of the secret entrance to the water labs, he knew she'd eventually come back around this way, so it gave him a chance to sit and catch up with himself.

"So yea, try and relax," Justin said out loud as he rubbed his tired eyes and began to slowly open them.

Just then he felt a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Great," he said acknowledging Enrico Marini's corpse, "I get to spend my break with you."

"Then again," he thought, "after everything else, one more dead body seems like nothing at all."

As he slowly shut his eyes again the vivid image of Jill, and the suffering he saw her go through flashed through his head. It all started with Richard Aiken, a Bravo, who, Justin assumed, Bryan had trapped previously in the evening. Jill found him after Justin had gotten her to solve the puzzle, ergo receiving the key to the reptile laboratory in the upper level of the mansion. Apparently, Aiken had fell victim to one of the escaped test subjects, code named "Yawn", which was really was just a fancy name for a very large, very mean, and very venomous rattlesnake. Justin had once offered to cover for a friend of his in the lab and feed the Yawn, which, after seeing its massive jaws devour a live steer in one gulp, made Justin lose quite a few hours of valuable sleep.

Of course, Aiken had no idea what the monster was that had attacked him, but after hearing his story from beginning to end, Justin couldn't help but assume. He also couldn't help but want to get his ass as far away from the labs as possible if the Yawn was loose, and apparently hungry. One of the unique features that the T-Virus strain had given the snake subjects was a controlled animosity. They would only be confrontational when hungry, otherwise they were approachable, and usually docile, which to many would seem like a good thing, but to Umbrella was nothing more then another grand failure for the record books. Once the Yawn project was scrapped Umbrella had left the creature for dead, and, to the best of Justin's knowledge, had stopped feeding it as well.

"And of course," Justin thought as he remembered back, "it just had to stay alive long enough to escape, and make life more difficult for me."

Justin had figured he could get Jill in and out because, if Richard had been bitten by the Yawn, its venom would soon stop the man's heart cold. In a normal rattlesnake, if someone managed to get bit, they'd have a decent amount of time to find an antidote, but the beauty of the T-Virus was that it amplified the snake's worst qualities, making it meaner, stronger, about thirty times bigger, and equally as venomous. If Richard Aiken had been freshly bitten he had about twenty-minute window, but there really had been no way to tell.

Jill, however, thought, if given time, she could find an antidote for her ailing friend, and it was then that Justin realized his stay in the Yawn's preying grounds was going to be a bit longer then he had anticipated. He sat nervously the entire time he was there, hoping not only to not be discovered by the snake, but by Jill and Richard as well.

After a significant amount of time had passed, Jill had concocted a makeshift antidote, of which Justin was quite impressed by. His team had been working on something along similar lines for weeks and had never gotten a single result, Jill however, after finding scraps of research and piecing them together, had managed to create in minutes what a team of world renowned scientists couldn't in months.

Unfortunately, the work of bioengineering genius was for naught. On her return to Richard, Jill met up with the Yawn, and surprisingly proved very persuasive with a firearm, killing it with very little difficulty, but the delay prevented her from getting to Aiken in time. He had already succumbed to the venom, and died.

Up until this point, Justin had been in awe of Jill's capabilities. All he could think of was how completely and utterly ridiculous it was that he was ordered to end the life of someone so completely qualified for greatness. Quick with a firearm, and with the brainpower to match any one of Umbrella's scientists, she almost seemed superhuman.

But that is when he saw it; a tear, slowly running down her cheek, and falling upon the tattered pant-leg tourniquet of Richard Aiken. She was strong, but she was human. The loss of her friend was something she had not expected, and the fact that in some regard Justin knew she blamed it on herself, only made it worse. She had never expected to come back and find that she was too late, and Justin could see the loss she felt. Up until this point she had handled the obstacles and the undead without flaw, it seemed like nothing would faze her, but now Justin could see exactly what it was he was dealing with.

"A girl," Justin said out loud, bringing himself back to reality, "A scared, lonely girl."

Justin had been repeating that phrase ever since.

He had begun to see just how much he had in common with this girl. They were both more then alone, though Justin did have Bryan and Wesker, but he realized more and more as time passed that such relations were unwanted and unnecessary, they both had their share of scares for the evening, and more over anything else, they were both horribly confused. Not to mention, Jill was quite attractive. The only thing they didn't seem to share was that Jill thought she was by herself on this crazy adventure.

More then once over the course of the night, Justin had debated with himself whether he should have interfered and joined Jill on her mission. Betraying Bryan was the least of his concerns, the Bryan that Justin used to know seemed to be totally gone at this point, so even the friendship had been severed. The only thing that kept him from doing so was a combination of his fear of Wesker, and the fact that he was a horrible liar and that Jill would probably kill him on sight.

Justin sighed. "I just need some rest," he said. He was more drained and exhausted then he could ever remember being before.

He began to doze off when out of nowhere he felt something pushing up against his arm. As he slowly grumbled out of his sleepy state he realized what had been pushing him in the arm was the barrel of a pistol.

"Hey," said a voice, "who the hell are you?"

Justin still hadn't come completely out of his state of sleep, but he knew the voice was definitely female.

"Hmm," he said wearily, "five more minutes mommy."

"What?" the voice replied.

Justin felt cold water splash across his face.

"What the fuck!" he exclaimed jumping to his feet and wiping his face dry.

That's when he saw her. Before him stood Jill Valentine, with her pistol pointing at his chest, smiling slightly at the cruel prank she had just played. Justin would have been slightly angrier if he hadn't been glad to make her laugh and ease the tension he knew she had dealt with earlier this evening.

"Alright," Jill said, "Who are you?"

"Um, who? Me?" Justin replied.

"No," she said sarcastically, "the guy behind you…of course you!"

Justin prayed that Wesker and Bryan were nowhere around, cleared his throat and began to answer.

"My name is Justin Baker, and I know you are Jill Valentine."

"How the hell do you know that? Unless you're the one who--" Jill asked, looking at Enrico's body and raising her gun slightly.

"No! No!" Justin replied quickly, "I didn't do that. Listen to me, you need to trust me, and let me tell you some things that you don't understand about this place. Alright?"

"Why should I trust you? How do I know you're not just going to kill me like you did him?"

"I can't tell you why, I just need you to trust me," Justin replied trying to be as sincere as possible. He had to put an end to what Bryan and Wesker were doing, and this might have been his only chance.

Jill sighed heavily, "Alright, but if you try anything funny I'll kill you." She checked him for weaponry, took his 9mm and then lowered her own.

"Walk with me," Justin said leading her out of the tunnel and back to the surface.

------

Over the course of their walk, and much to Jill's amazement, Justin explained everything. The history of the mansion, its link to Umbrella, and how he, another rouge scientist named Bryan Richardson, and their department head, one Albert Wesker, had been sanctioned to perform field tests of the creatures on the grounds here using the S.T.A.R.S. Teams as bait. As bizarre as all that had seemed to Jill on the forefront, the hardest part for her to swallow was the name Wesker.

"How could our own captain do this to us?" She kept thinking. In fact it was that one and only thought that kept her from completely trusting this Justin Baker character.

She had encountered Wesker several times over the course of the evening: once in the mansion, and once at the green house where she battled that hideous gigantic plant which, if she remembered correctly, was named Plant 42, as well as many other times, and they had both agreed that if _anyone_ was acting suspiciously so far this evening it had been Barry.

He had saved Jill's ass a few times tonight, but he kept running off in a hurry, like something was bothering him, and neither Jill or Wesker could put a finger on it. So for this stranger to just fess-up all this information seemed very suspicious to Jill. But everything else that had happened up to this point wasn't quite as it seemed anyway, so she couldn't believe that he would make up this extravagant of a lie just to trick her.

"So what you are telling me," Jill said, "Is that all the S.T.A.R.S. here tonight are being led around by you three, and that if everything goes according to plan, none of us are making it out alive?"

"Unfortunately," Justin replied, "You hit the nail on the head."

"Well, how long have you been following me?" Jill asked.

"Since the moment you walked in." Justin replied. "I had originally thought this was a good idea, but after seeing everything you've gone through this evening, and at my hands, well it made me realize the true difference between right and wrong."

"Did it now?" Jill asked.

"Yes, you see I don't think that—"

_CRACK!_

"What was that?" Jill asked grabbing her gun and flanking the path they were on.

"I don't know," Justin replied, "give me back my gun and we can split up, whatever it is, we'll be harder to catch apart then together."

Jill hesitated.

_CRACK!_

"C'mon!" Justin shouted.

Against her better judgment, and strictly on the grounds of survival, or so she kept telling herself, Jill through her new acquaintance back his firearm.

"Which way do I go?" she asked.

"Just keep running down this path, I know the woods pretty well, so I'll see if I can lead whatever it is the other way." Justin replied.

"Alright," Jill said running off.

She still wasn't completely sure if she could trust this guy, but if it meant either trusting him or becoming zombie kibble, she had to have her priorities straight. As she ran she slowly approached a run down shack on her left.

"What?" she said sarcastically, approaching the dilapidated front door, "No welcome mat?"

-----

Justin ran for the woods after he watched Jill run off the other way. Whatever was in the woods, it had to be led away, or Jill would not get out alive. If she didn't get out alive then all of Justin's efforts were for naught, and Umbrella _had_ to be exposed if it was the last thing Justin did.

As he ran blindly into the dark, gun pointed forward the thoughts of what he was about to run into flashed wildly through his mind.

Could it be a Cerberus? A zombie? Maybe one of the plant subjects rooted into the woods and matured. Hell it could even be one of the arachnids! All Justin knew was unless it was a very lost pizza delivery boy with a fresh case of miller light and a pepperoni pizza, then in all honesty he didn't want anything to do with it.

But he had no choice.

He could hear the noise getting closer and closer, and he didn't know how he was going to handle the surprise, but he felt his palms getting sweaty, and a cold sweat forming on his brow, when all of a sudden something reached out and grabbed his wrist, pulling him to the right and throwing him to the ground.

"Aahhh!" Justin screamed as he slammed, shoulder first in the wet ground below him.

"Jesus Christ," said an all too familiar voice, "You remind me of me, and it's scary."

Justin recognized the voice as he stood up and brushed the dirt off of his clothes.

"Dude," he said, "Bryan what the fuck, I mean honestly what the hell dude, I mean shit look at me, you coulda broken my arm you—"

Bryan cut him off.

"Listen you little prick," Bryan replied, "you need to shut the hell up before your little girlfriend comes back and shoots us both. Understand?"

"What?" Justin replied. "Sam's here?"

"No you moron," Bryan replied, "Wesker is on his way to meet us here for an update, and I'm debating if I should tell him about your little rendezvous over there or not."

Justin never remembered Bryan being quite this pushy or hostile ever before, something was changing inside of him, and it had been ever since this whole ordeal started.

"You wouldn't." Justin replied.

"Watch me."

"What would you get out of it Bryan?" Justin asked. "Your nose is already buried deep enough up Wesker's ass don't you think?"

"You asshole!" Bryan replied. He swung at Justin, who barely dodging jumped up and swung back, his punch landing across Bryan's jaw.

Justin watched in amazement as Bryan barely moved when the punch landed on his jaw. He simply cracked his neck, and slowly turned back to face Justin again. Something wasn't right, this wasn't the Bryan that Justin had known from high school, this was something unnatural…inhuman.

Before a comment could be made Justin and Bryan heard Wesker approaching their position. Justin stood their hoping to god that Bryan didn't follow through on his word, because if he did, it'd be the end of his life as he knew it.

"Report." Was all Wesker had to say when he approached.

"Everything is going according to plan sir," Bryan replied.

Justin stood there in silence, finally realizing what it was about Wesker that intimidated him so much. The man always wore black sunglasses, even in the pitch dark of night. He stood their starring Wesker down, but could never tell whether the man was ever seriously looking back.

"Good. Baker?" Wesker asked.

"Um, same, uh, sir." Justin replied. Then he waited, waited for Bryan to chime in.

Seconds went by, but nothing.

"Well, good work boys, I am doing fine myself…report back in two hours. Understood?"

"Yessir." Bryan and Justin replied in unison.

Wesker walked off into the darkness, and after seconds of silence, and after Justin was sure he was gone, Justin finally broke the silence.

"You, you didn't do it." He said, smiling at Bryan.

"Of course not," Bryan said.

"Well, why not?" Justin asked.

"I realized something."

"What? What did you realize?" Justin asked, feeling uneasy.

"That you're doing your job afterall."

"What?" Justin responded quickly, worried.

"Well, of course leading Jill to her imminent doom would have been your plan all along right? Plus it's a great chance to test the G-Virus, dontcha think?"

"What? No!" Justin replied glancing back the way he came from, "What do you mean?"

"Lisa Trevor," Bryan responded, "I let her loose into the woods a few hours ago, I figured you'd be pleased to know."

"When were you going to warn me?" Justin responded.

Bryan smiled evilly.

"I wasn't." he replied.


	26. The Shot Heard 'Round The World

"What the hell is wrong with you man?" Justin yelled as he shoved Bryan to the ground.

Bryan simply cackled as he fell.

Justin couldn't figure out what had happened to what used to be his friend, but what mattered the most now was getting to Jill before Lisa did.

"Jill!" Justin screamed as he turned and ran away from Bryan back in the direction he came from.

Bryan simply stood up and dusted himself off.

"Wait up Justin," he shouted after his colleague, "I don't want to miss this."

-----

Jill walked up past the beaten down porch to the door of this dilapidated cabin. From what she could gather, this location seemed to have been quite livable at one point, many, many years in the past. When she placed her hand on the door knob, she was unable to turn it.

"Hmm," she thought, "must be a bit rusty."

She pulled out her lock pick, looked at it, and sighed as she placed it back into her back pocket.

"For once I'm taking the easy was out," she said as she took a step back from the door.

Next to her on the floor of the porch she placed the contents of her pockets, putting down her gun, flashlight, lock pick, and ID badge. She then removed a rubber band from her pocket and used it to tie back her hair.

Then with the swift tactics only a S.T.A.R.S. team member could produce, with enough power to match, Jill jumped into the air and placed a well-timed roundhouse kick to the center of the front door shattering it to pieces.

As the dust settled Jill gathered up her belongings and ventured in. She figured that in the long run, if whatever had been chasing them managed to eliminate Justin, she'd have a better chance at cornering it here, then out in the open woods. She clicked on her flashlight and began sweeping the floor to get a good sense of her new surroundings.

It was a small wood cabin, with only four rooms no more then ten feet wide by sixteen feet across. In one room was a set of beds and trunks, in another was a table and chairs, one room had a fireplace in it, and the fourth was completely empty except for the debris that had been stored up there well before the previous owners had abandoned it.

"Hmm," Jill thought, "brings back memories."

Even though it was the pitch dark of night, with the stench of death, and warm fog in the air, Jill couldn't help but see this place and think back to watching Little House On The Prairie with her father. She remembered eating up her dinner as fast as she could every Tuesday and Thursday night, then running upstairs, changing into pajamas, and flying down the steps like Speedy Gonzales all to land comfortably on her fathers lap in front of the tube. It was always the perfect seat to see from, and if she didn't understand the plot he was always there to explain it to her. In fact, the only thing this place was missing, in Jill's opinion _was_ her father.

As she ran her fingers across the dust-caked mantel above the fireplace she ran across a photograph. It was apparently very old, tattered and worn with corners rubbed out, and it had turned yellow with age. On the back was a message. It read:

"My family, Lisa age 6, what have I done?"

Jill tried really hard to comprehend what a phrase like that could possibly mean. The family in the picture seemed very content, for what pictures were worth. Then she heard it.

_SCRAPE_

It sounded like nails dragging along a chalkboard coming from the floor underneath the room she was in.

"What in the hell was that?" She cried as she jumped back.

Just then the noise sounded again, except this time she could hear a creature wailing, so loud she thought she could go deaf.

"I have to get out of here, and quickly." Jill decided.

Just as she was heading for the door she felt the ground beneath her creak a little bit.

She stopped.

Jill knew the ground beneath her was soft from age and wear, and a decent amount of termite feasting. That, along with the scraping underneath, could cause the floor to go at any second if she wasn't careful. She slowly tiptoed three more steps.

_BAM BAM BAM_

There was someone banging across the porch.

"What the hell is it now" Jill sighed as she slowly raised her pistol.

Before she even had it at shoulder level a foot came crashing down and in stepped the huge boot of Barry Burton, panting and out of breath.

"Jill," he said, "What are you doing here?"

"What am _I_ doing here?" Jill responded, "What's it to you?"

"What?" Barry said confused.

"You've been acting awfully strange tonight Barry, what's going on?"

"Oh, well, um," Barry started, "Jill listen you need to understand something." Barry began to take a step forward.

"Stop right where you are!" Jill shouted.

"Jill, please, listen to me." Barry tried to sound as calm as he could.

"No Barry, I mean it, stop where you are!" Jill shouted as Barry's boot came pounding down on the soft floor again.

"Jill, c'mon I'm begging you to give me a second, now put down your gun."

"No, Barry, I mean it, don't step anymore or the floor is going to—."

_CRACK_

It was too late.

No sooner then Jill could finish her sentence, the two S.T.A.R.S. members crashed through the floor and in a cloud of dust and wood pulp landed in a cold, dark wet cellar-like room.

"cave in." Jill said, finishing her sentence.

-----

_CRASH_

"What the hell was that?" Justin exclaimed.

"Eh, probably just Lisa, you know she could be hungry by now." Bryan said with a smile on his face.

Without a seconds hesitation Justin hauled off and once again cracked Bryan across the face.

"You know," Bryan said, barely flinching, "I am _really_ getting tired of that."

He turned towards Justin and punched him in the gut.

Justin saw stars as he flew up in the air and back about 10 feet.

"What the, what the hell are you?" Justin asked as he crouched on the ground coughing up blood.

"You know, honestly, I wish I knew." Bryan said. "I think it has something to do with that vaccine we got awhile back, the test one; I think it was something beyond our ability to comprehend Justin. The only question is,"

"Why didn't it do anything to me?" Justin finished his sentence.

"Precisely." Bryan replied. "I had been having secret attacks and convulsions for months now, and after each and every one of them I seemed to get more keen, stronger, more powerful and aware of my surroundings, and as they got worse I got better. You however, did not. Go figure."

Bryan slowly began to close in on Justin.

"What?" Justin said, "Should I stand up and applaud? You're no better then any other of Umbrella's monsters, you're just another experiment to them Bryan…a number, a number in a book of numbers that will do nothing but get more people killed and you know it.

Justin rose to his feet.

"You're better then this and you know it." He said.

"Bravo, braaaavo." Said a voice from the darkness.

Both Bryan and Justin spun around to see where the voice had come from as Wesker slowly stepped into sight.

"Mr. Baker I must commend your ability to incite the masses, Umbrella could use a speaker like you behind the scenes." Wesker said as he clapped his hands slowly.

"Fuck off Wesker," Justin replied, "This shit has gone too far, Umbrella has hurt and killed too many people, and I have allowed it to happen for too long."

"So now what, exactly, do you plan to do about it?" Wesker asked.

"I'll go public, I have documents, formulas, emails, all saved in various places, as well as memorized. I can make a T-Virus sample with my eyes closed in the right setting. Give me time, and this whole company will go down." Justin said.

Justin knew revealing his entire plan was completely detrimental in his current company, but beyond Bryan, nobody knew about Jill and Justin's rendezvous, and if she had gone and found her team then he would never actually have to go public himself. It was an ace in the hole.

"I see, I see." Wesker said. "What do you think about that Richardson?"

"I…um, I….I" Bryan stuttered as he glanced back and forth between Justin and Wesker.

"Bryan, tell him, you know what the right answer is." Justin yelled.

"Anytime you're ready Richardson…time _is_ precious. You've been a great asset so far, and I can see you doing great things for Umbrella." Wesker said calmly.

"Umbrella is my life, sir." Bryan replied.

Justin watched and in an instant saw whatever bit of the Bryan he knew disappear before his eyes. He was gone now, a shell of what he had once been, all that was left was an empty, greedy heartless soul, void of human compassion, but not of life-force. It was then that Justin realized the only real zombie he had seen tonight was the new man standing in front of him now.

"You son of a bitch!" Justin screamed as he ran at Wesker, wound back and unloaded on the man with an uppercut to the jaw.

Bryan watched on in astonishment as the man he admired was knocked back onto the ground, his sunglasses flying off and landing in the dirt next to him.

Wesker spit blood out of his mouth and jumped to his feet.

"Richardson, kill him." He said sternly as he picked up his sunglasses and ran off into the darkness.

Justin turned to face Bryan, panting for breath.

"Bryan, don't do this, you know you don't have to do this." Justin said.

Bryan slowly raised his pistol.

"C'mon man, Wesker is using you as a tool, remember, numbers in a book, that's it, that's all this amounts to, the death, the monsters, everything is just numbers." Justin was trying everything in his power to win back his friend as he heard the pistol click and watched Bryan put his finger on the trigger.

"Think about Ingrid man; think about how much she lov—."

_BANG BANG BANG_

The shots echoed off every mountainside, every building in Raccoon City, and every single solid surface across the face of this plant and beyond, or so it seemed to Bryan. He tried to make the ringing stop, but all it did was get worse as he watch the body of his colleague and friend slump to the cold ground in a bloody heap.

"Goddamn you Baker….GODDAMN YOU!" Bryan shouted as he unloaded the rest of his clip into the dead body.

The firing finally stopped and then the ringing slowly faded in Bryan's head.

Bryan turned and left, running off into the darkness.

-----

Jill and Barry slowly stood up and brushed themselves off in the darkness.

"Jill stand back, I'm going to try to light up a flare." Barry said.

All of a sudden Jill heard a scratch and then a bright spark illuminated and lit a flare which in turn caused the whole room to be bathed in a bright green light.

"I see some torches; I'm going to use this to light them." Barry said as he began to move around the room.

Jill watched on as Barry began to light the torches mounted on the walls around them. It seemed like they were in some form of medieval dungeon like room with chains on the walls and suspended torches. All the walls were stone, as were the floors and…

"The floor!" Jill exclaimed in her mind.

On the floor was Barry's Colt magnum, all by itself, if she could grab it then she may be able to get some real answers out of Barry.

"Jill…Jill? What are you doing?" Barry saw his partner had faded into some kind of daze when all of a sudden he saw what she was looking at.

"No!" Barry shouted rushing for the gun before Jill could get to it. Before he could get there she had kicked into another chamber and they both when scrambling after it.

"Jill what is wrong with you?" Barry asked.

There was no response.

He stood up and brushed himself off and all of a sudden the same astonished look fell over his face that Jill had on her own.

They were in some strange chamber, with a walkway around the perimeter and off of each wall was a thin walkway, which all met in the middle and in the middle was a coffin, with 4 chains suspending it above a pit. Each of the chains was connected to a boulder that sat along each wall. All other floor space in the room was basically a pit that neither Barry nor Jill could see the bottom of.

"This…what is this?" Jill asked tucking Barry's Colt into her pants.

"I'm, I'm not sure." Barry replied.

_SCRAPE_

"Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa"

"What the hell?" both S.T.A.R.S exclaimed as they spun around.

Just then, from around the bend, came a creature of unexplainable proportions. It was a hunchbacked entity, with long, snake-like hair, pale, limp, and skinny as a twig. Her hair was tattered and covered whatever was left of her face. The scraping noise that accompanied her were chains that were attached to a pair of almost wood-block like wrist-cuff she was wearing, and they dragged along beside her.

Barry and Jill split up and took different paths along walls of the room as the creature entered into the chamber. Jill whipped out her gun and was about to open fire when she noticed that the creature had turned and gone after Barry, who now was backed up against the coffin in the middle of the chamber.

"Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa" it wailed.

"Jill!" Barry shouted, "I need my gun, you have to trust me."

Jill hesitated, but she knew what she had to do to save her colleague. There was no reason to assume that he was guilty of anything suspicious, but then again there was no reason that he couldn't be either.

"Talk about déjà vu." Jill thought.

She reached into her pants and tossed him the magnum revolver.

Barry caught it and let loose a slug right into the face of this creature, it stumbled back just enough to let Barry through, but somehow was able to stretch out its arms all the way across the room, and brace itself against the wall to keep itself from falling into the pit. Whatever they were fighting was unnatural and dangerous, however it didn't seem to want to attack outright; it simply seemed to hover around the coffin in the middle of the room trying to protect it almost.

"Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa" the creature wailed yet again.

Just then Jill realized it. This creature had to have been the little girl in the photograph. Why else would her parents be so upset about what they had done. Jill just had a pit feeling in her stomach that this used to be a little girl, to young to understand what Umbrella had done to her, and now only she had the pay the price for their sick experiments. The only other logical conclusion would be that this coffin in the room was her mother based on her wails, and that this creature possessed enough naiveté to want to protect it with its life.

However, Jill's main concern was her own life, and she knew what she had to do.

"Barry!" Jill shouted, "Keep her busy, I have an idea, just make sure she doesn't come near me!"

"Her? She?" Barry said.

"Trust me," Jill said.

"You got it kid, do your thing, I just hope it works!" Barry replied.

Jill proceeded to run around the room pushing the boulders down into the supposed bottomless pit of the chamber, each one breaking off from its old, rusted chain, and causing the coffin itself to lower dangerously close to the pit it was hanging over. After pushing all 4, the coffin broke open, and dropped into the pit.

"Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaa" the creature yelled jumping into the pit after it.

Jill and Barry hesitated in the silence, waiting for another wail, or for the arms of the creature to extended and bring her back for revenge.

Several minutes passed but nothing happened.

Barry re-holstered his magnum as Jill let out a sigh and slouched up against the wall to recollect herself.

"We need to talk kid." Barry said approaching her.


	27. Wesker's Report 4

FirstClass Email System

Subject: Procedure Update

To: White Umbrella

From: Capt. Ablert Wesker

Results are pouring in faster then the rain outside. I can tell simply from recent experience that Bryan Richardson has almost completely given in to the "vaccine" and if all goes well, should provide quite an interesting test to our S.T.A.R.S. bait.

One of my team, a Barry Burton began to suspect things, so I have him under the false impression that a team of elite assassins is sanctioned outside his home, and on my command will proceed to kill his entire family. He has currently aided in the elimination of S.T.A.R.S. Bravo Team captain Enrico Marini, who, met his match fighting our Grave Digger subject.

Other results are as follows:

Richard Aiken – Communications, Bravo Team – Deceased – Yawn Venom

Kenneth Silverman – Weapons, Bravo Team – Deceased – Infected scientist

Forrest Speyer – Vehicles, Bravo Team – Deceased – Bird Attacks, Bullet wound

Rebecca Chambers – Medic, Bravo Team – MIA

Chris Redfield – Alpha Team – MIA

Justin Baker – Scientist, Clearance 6 – Deceased

I included the last name solely to give proof of the loyalty I have developed in Richardson. Baker became too moralistic on me and decided to alert Jill Valentine of my wrongdoings and subsequently wanted to go public about our procedures. He then proceeded to enter into a physical altercation with myself, so I ordered Richardson to kill him. I then left, only to soon hear the ring of bullets being fired from where I had once been.

If he is to continue down the path he is currently on, there will be a bevy of results at your disposal within the next hour or two.

The self destruct system is currently set to begin countdown in one hour. After that any evidence of tonight's occurrences will be completely sterilized.

Of course I will keep you posted.

Sincerely,

Albert Wesker

_**-Minimize Program FirstClass-**_

_**-Open Program SecureServer-**_

SecureServer Email System

Subject: Contingency

To: Black Eagle

From: Wesker

I am currently in the laboratory at the Spencer Mansion. It is imperative that you upload to me the list of what you do or do not need, otherwise I will be at a loss as to what to save.

My current coordinates are as follows:

**U7m45gX**

**q**

Of course, you can decode that upon arrival.

I plan to set the self-destruct mechanism off in exactly 1 hour. If I do not hear from you before then, this deal is null and void.

But that doesn't mean I won't expect decent compensation for my efforts.

-Wesker


	28. True Lies

If Jill had wanted to talk to Barry she would have done it well before she gave him back his colt revolver. Unfortunately the timing at that point couldn't have been worse, and now the once trusted, now suspicious Barry Burton was wielding the biggest bargaining chip.

"Listen kid," he started, "things are definitely not as they seem."

"Barry," Jill replied, "in my opinion things are pretty bad. If they aren't what they seem, I'm going to have to assume they only get worse."

Jill brushed herself off for the last time, checked her ammo and headed down the nearest open tunnel way. She didn't care where it led; she just needed to get the hell away from Barry before he started to act weird again.

She had barely made it to the mouth of the tunnel when she felt the hand on her shoulder.

"Jill, stop." Barry said sternly.

Without a second's hesitation Jill grabbed Barry's wrist, kicked backwards into his groin spun his arm around his back and then knocked him face-first to the ground with the butt of her gun. She didn't take four consecutive years of self-defense for no reason.

As Barry laid there coughing and rolling around Jill ran down the tunnel and headed up the ladder. When she reached the top she was in what seemed to be a fancy courtyard. There was a dainty, clean fountain, spewing out crystal clear water that reflected the glowing moonlight nicely, and the ground around her was white marble. On each slab of marble was an etched out Umbrella Inc. logo. To her left was a large metal door that had two holes in it, in each hole was a crest, one showing a wolf, the other an eagle.

"Another puzzle." Jill thought to herself. But if the two crests were already where they belonged that meant someone had already entered this courtyard from the outside.

She was not alone.

A cold, lonely air blew through the courtyard and she headed for the only other door she could see. Above it were the words "Welcome to Umbrella".

Jill sighed and reached for the doorknob, she just couldn't handle much more of this tonight. Not without having a nervous breakdown at least.

Just then she heard her name coming from the base of the ladder by the fountain. Barry was up and moving again. Almost instantly she grabbed the doorknob, opened the door, and ran inside slamming it behind her.

She found herself in a dimly lit room. In the left hand corner was another room, its door slightly ajar with light, which seemed to be coming from a computer screen, leaking out from underneath it. In front of her was a table with paper work messed all over it, and in the right hand far corner was a staircase that lead down to another of what Jill believed to be beautifully adorned rooms. She walked towards the table and began to run her hands over the paperwork, sifting through end-year finance reports covered in bloody handprints, order forms, and other useless information.

She took a seat.

"Maybe there is something here that can take Umbrella down once and for all." she thought.

She kept looking, but was finding nothing but more and more potential paper airplanes at Umbrella board meetings.

Just then heard a thump and saw the doorknob begin to turn in the dim light.

Jill jumped up and ran into the computer room to the left. She cracked the door open again and watched for Barry's entrance.

As she saw him enter she heard a noise.

_BEEP_

She turned around and realized it was the computer beeping. If it continued Barry was sure to find her. She went to the mouse and moved it to clear the Umbrella Logo Screensaver off the screen.

What opened next could have knocked Jill on her ass if hadn't already been sitting. She began to read:

_Results are pouring in faster then the rain outside. I can tell simply from recent experience that Bryan Richardson has almost completely given in to the "vaccine" and if all goes well, should provide quite an interesting test to our S.T.A.R.S. bait._

"S.T.A.R.S. bait." Jill whispered, "Justin _wasn't_ lying."

She continued:

_One of my team, a Barry Burton began to suspect things, so I have him under the false impression that a team of elite assassins is sanctioned outside his home, and on my command will proceed to kill his entire family. He has currently aided in the elimination of S.T.A.R.S. Bravo Team captain Enrico Marini, who, met his match fighting our Grave Digger subject._

"Oh my god," Jill gasped and quickly covered her mouth. Barry was being blackmailed and all this time Jill was being very harsh on him. The only question was by whom.

Jill felt her stomach turn upside-down and inside-out when she read the final line of the email:

_Sincerely,_

_**Albert Wesker**_

The words echoed in her head like a coyote at the Grand Canyon. She whispered to herself, "Albert Wesker…Albert Wesker…Albert—"

"Wesker." She was cut off by the mail voice that finished her sentence.

She turned around and saw Barry standing in the doorway.

Justin was right, the whole mission was a setup. Wesker had gotten them lost in the caverns of hell, turned them against each other, and then left to watch them die…all for a pay check. There were so many things she could say to Barry, so many things she wanted to say, but she just couldn't find the words.

"Oh, Barry, I'm so sorry." She finally choked out.

"It's ok kid." He replied.

"It all makes sense now, your being blackmailed."

"Mmhmm, if I don't do everything Wesker says he's going to kill my family, I'd suspect playing dumb or you could be at risk too." Barry said.

Just then Jill remembered the email had said something Barry may like to know.

"Barry," she said, "read the fifth line down of the email."

Barry walked to the screen and slowly read. Jill jumped five feet in the air as he slammed his fist down on the table causing the computer to shake.

"I'm assuming you finished" she said catching her breath.

"That lying son of a bitch!" Barry said pulling out his revolver, "He's here somewhere and I'm going to kill him."

"No," Jill said, "we need to expose him for the rat he is."

The two team members looked at each other with a newly instilled trust, nodded in unison and slowly filed out of the room.

"Barry, I'm really sorry." Jill said.

"Don't worry kid, I know," he replied, "head for the stairs, we have us a rat to catch."

The two descended into the darkness.

They reached a narrow hallway which led far down to a door. There was a door off to the right but from experience gathered throughout the evening, the quickest way out was always a straight line so they continued past it. The door at the end of the hallway was labeled "laboratory" and they could hear an eerily familiar cackling laugh on the other side.

Wesker was close.

"Let's get him." Jill said, as her gun rose.

Barry knew that Jill had the right intentions, but knowing Wesker, this would come down to his first instinct.

"Wesker has to die." he thought, "before anymore innocent people do."


	29. The Birth of a Tyrant

Bryan tried very hard to focus on the mission at hand. He was to eliminate Justin as Wesker had ordered, and then meet with Wesker in the labs beneath the mansion grounds, where, supposedly, he was to help Wesker set up the very last test for the S.T.A.R.S. teams.

Normally Bryan would have been very anxious to see what his idol had planned, to watch the faces of the S.T.A.R.S. teams as they finally met their match at the hands of one they thought they could trust. But these were slightly different circumstances. Bryan still had not quite come to terms with the fact that his best friend, his colleague, his _brother_ died by his own hands, all because he wanted to look good to Wesker.

"Everything has a purpose, I couldn't afford to let him sabotage what Umbrella has worked so hard to achieve," he said to himself as he began to pick up pace.

Maybe Justin was right, the vaccine, enhancing abilities, everything. It all made sense. Bryan could feel it surging through his veins even as he walked right now. It coursed through his system, making him faster, and faster, he began to feel the wind in his face but he didn't feel like he was running. He could feel the ground shake beneath each step, but he didn't feel stronger. He may not have felt it, but it was there, and he had begun to lose control.

"Wesker will know what to do." He thought. "Justin simply is a matter of the past, and nothing is going to change that."

Bryan slowed down as he approached the gate to the lab. He took two crests out of his pocket; of all the puzzles in the mansion this one was the easiest. All three head scientists got their own crests, almost like a "key to the lab" and all that Bryan had to do was take them out of his pocket and put them in the appropriate whole. Easy as pie. Of course the holes were not labeled, and if he did it wrong two automatic machine guns would shoot him on the spot.

"But hey," Bryan thought, "No pressure."

After slowly, and carefully getting the crests right, Bryan entered the lab and began to walk towards where he was supposed to meet Wesker. Just to be thorough, however, he thought he'd check up on his two jailbirds. In the lab was a hallway with two doors, one on the right and one on the end of the hall. The door to the right led to where he had been holding Chris and Rebecca for the past few hours now. An old prison cell for relentless test subjects, it had proved quite a sturdy holding cell for the two S.T.A.R.S. members that is until Wesker decided Chris's fate, and Bryan could coax Rebecca into leaving Raccoon with him and starting anew on his promoted Umbrella paycheck.

Bryan approached the rusty old door and knocked.

"Hello?" He said. "Anybody home?"

Silence.

He knocked again. Still nothing.

Bryan slid the small door open that allowed him to see into the room. Chris and Rebecca were asleep in the corner, Rebecca on top of Chris.

"Oh," Bryan said as he clapped his hands together, "How cute."

Chris slowly opened his eyes.

"Ahh, Mr. Redfield," Bryan said, "I trust you slept well?"

Chris slowly stood up, lowering Rebecca to the cell floor.

"You asshole let us the hell out of here!"

"All in good time Christopher, all in good time. Until Wesker decides how to rid our company of your presence you are just going to have to be patient."

"What?" Chris said taking a step back. "Did you just say Wesker?"

"Yah, I figured at this point it was about time you knew who the _real_ traitor was. Ironic isn't it? This whole time you've been debating how to turn me into your captain, when the whole while he's the reason I've locked you in here." Bryan laughed.

"That can't be, you're lying!" Chris exclaimed.

"I wish I was, I truly, truly, wish I was, but alas, I'm not. You see your friends Jill and Barry had just as hard a time coming to terms with it too. But I think they've taken to the idea quite nicely…if you know what I mean." Bryan said as he examined the exterior of his pistol.

"How could he? How could he betray us? What did you do to Jill and Barry you son of a bitch?"

"Ah-ah-ah Mr. Redfield," Bryan said waving a finger at Chris, "You ought to keep your voice down, I'd hate for you to wake the little lady. She needs her beauty sleep for later."

Bryan turned and began to walk away.

"What are you going to do Richardson? If you lay a hand on her I swear I'll—."

"You'll what?" Bryan asked turning around, "If I wanted to I could waste you right now you pathetic little waste of my time. All it would take is one swift shot between the bars that separate you and I and you'd be as dead everyone else around here lately."

"You wouldn't." Chris replied. "Not without Wesker's orders you puppet!"

Bryan trembled with anger.

"Believe me," he said, "I have enough blood on my hands tonight to make killing you seem like a leisure sport."

He slid the little window shut again.

"But believe me," he yelled at the door as he walked away, "When I do get to kill you I will enjoy it wholeheartedly."

Bryan walked away from the cell and towards the laboratory entrance as he took a deep breath. He didn't want to address Wesker in this state, it'd be very unprofessional, and even more so, a sign of weakness, something Wesker wouldn't tolerate. Once he had finally composed himself again, for whatever it was worth, Bryan pushed open the door to the lab and watched Wesker type some data into a computer entry database on a large screen in the middle of the room.

The laboratory was nothing extremely special. It was, as many other Umbrella facilities were, white and sterile, with metal floors, walls and ceilings, lit by only fluorescent lighting, and the windows were composed of the most efficient bulletproof glass. It had computer terminals, complete with screens and built in keyboards along three of the four walls, and along the fourth was a table ridden with paperwork and test tubes, Bunsen burners and eraser shavings. However it was the central terminal that was the most breath taking. It was the most expensive unit in the entire facility, mansion and all. It was where a new breed of T-Virus carrier was to be held, birthed, fed, and monitored until it could sustain sufficient life functions on its own, a larger then life test-tube-like holding cell which was connected to the central terminal, and inside of it were locks to hold the body in, as well as pipes which apparently filled the tube with some kind of liquid.

In all the years Bryan had been with Umbrella he had heard of the unit, but yet had never seen it used, and even now, in the dim, emergency back-up generator's light, the tube still looked brand new and clean, as if it had never been used before.

"Excuse me sir," Bryan said breaking the silence, "Have you decided what to do with Redfield and Chambers yet?"

"Ah, um no Richardson," Wesker replied, "If you'll just give me one moment to finish this though."

Wesker continued to type, and Bryan continued to talk.

"Well, not to be rude sir," Bryan added, "Its just that I don't feel Rebecca has done anything to merit punishment, it seems as though Redfield dragged her along and I was thinking—."

"Oh were you?" Wesker cut him off, 'I hope you didn't hurt yourself or anything." He went back to typing.

"Um, sorry sir." Bryan said lowering his head.

"Relax Richardson," Wesker said looking up from the terminal and approaching Bryan, "I want to thank you for all the great work you've done this evening, really top notch!"

Bryan felt a pride swelling inside of him.

"Why, um thank you sir." He said. But then he remembered, there was something else swelling inside of him, something he didn't fully comprehend yet, and it was about time to ask Wesker some questions.

"Sir," Bryan continued, "There's something else I've been meaning to ask you so long as we have a moment."

"Go ahead."

"That vaccine Baker and I had to take before we were admitted as head scientists here at the mansion facility, was there anything I needed to know about it that perhaps wasn't on the disclosure form I signed?"

"I'm glad you asked that." Wesker replied. "Come here, I'd like to show you something."

Wesker put his arm around Bryan's shoulders and led him to the entrance of the large test-tube like cell. They stood there in silence for a few moments simply admiring it for the piece of technological fortitude it was, and what it represented monetarily for Umbrella as a whole. Wesker broke the moment by firmly patting Bryan on the back and placing his hands firmly on Bryan shoulders with a tight grip.

"You may however," he said continuing his previous thought, "not like the answer. But I ask that you stand here and listen to what I have to say. In the long run, you may end up liking it."

Bryan figured after a night like this he could handle anything, especially, if for once, what he was about to hear would make sense of everything.

"The vaccine you took," Wesker started, "was, and is, the beginning of a new era in Umbrella Incorporated biotechnological weaponry research. As you know you've been working with a strain of virus knows as the T or Tyrant strain and infecting animals, plants and the like, and also as you've seen its affects branch off even further, into human and insect species as well. The T-Virus works on very quick and efficient properties, not allowing its host to fully adapt to its abilities before they have subsequently been killed by it and even though it does reanimate the dead host, at that point its true power is lost as the host's mind, and muscles have completely stopped functioning and adapting."

Bryan listened intently. Though he knew most of this information, if not all of it, prior to this moment, hearing Wesker say it made his work seem so much more important and worthwhile.

"Now," Wesker continued, "The vaccines given to both you and Baker were a test in what you believe to be t-virus antibodies, a cure if you will, and even though you both were not infected, we needed to see how a body would adapt to the vaccine before we could begin distribution. Or at least that is what we told you. In actuality," Wesker's voice began to seem slightly more sinister, "you two received two slightly stronger strains, similar but not entirely the same, of the tyrant virus. Whereas Justin's immune system was all that seemed to meld with the virus, making him immune to most diseases such as the t-virus itself, your whole system seemed to have the same affect. In essence you are what we intended the t-virus to be, a living, breathing, and completely functional beast of unimaginable power, who still has complete control and reason…to an extent."

Bryan could feel his pulse quicken. He had always suspected this to be true, but to finally hear it made it slightly harder to handle then he had expected.

"So what you're saying," Bryan asked, "Is that I'm just another zombie?"

"No, not at all," Wesker answered, "You are evolution."

"What about Justin?"

"Well, evolution has its," Wesker paused as if looking for the right words, "dead ends, if you will."

Wesker turned Bryan around.

"You have proven to be the ultimate test subject Bryan," Wesker said, "Your results are impeccable and your performance is beyond belief. However you are not done quite yet, there is one last thing we need to do, and in part it will answer your very first question."

"I don't understand." Bryan replied.

"Computer," Wesker said coldly, "Open door."

The door to the test tube hissed open as the pressurized interior met the air inside the laboratory. The locks inside that were meant to hold a subject inside of it shot out and wrapped around Bryan's neck, wrists, thighs and ankles. Before he could even realize what had happened they slowly began to pull him inward.

Bryan began to struggle.

"You wanted to take care of Redfield and Chambers, and now you will." Wesker replied, "But first, your evolution must complete itself."

Bryan continued to struggle as Wesker pushed him backwards.

"What…what are you doing?" Bryan yelled as he was finally pulled up against the back of the test tube.

The door hissed shut in his face and small biogenetic uplinks clipped onto his temple, his wrists and his lower back.

As Bryan panicked he watched Wesker return to the terminal and begin to type again. Just then he heard a whirring noise and watched in horror as a clear, jelly-like liquid began to ooze out of the pipes and slowly fill the test tube.

"You see," he heard Wesker shout above the whirring, "that jelly has a special steroid in it that, once the t-virus recognizes it, will super-enhance the affects already taking place inside your body. Of course it is a new technology so there are no guarantees it may work, but so is science."

There was nothing Bryan could do, he was trapped and not all the strength, determination or loyalty in the entire universe could save him now. The steroid jelly was now up to his knees and he could feel a pressure in every part of the body that the jelly touched, and watched as his legs turned grey and started to rip through his pants. He couldn't do anything about it, and a sense of helplessness had finally set in.

"Even worse," Bryan thought as rationality began to set back in, "I deserve this."

As the jelly filled the tube he could hear Wesker continue.

"Once I've retrieved the last bit of data, based on your transformation and found that goddamn virus sample I'll set the self destruct module for two minutes. That should unlock all the doors in the facility and allow Redfield and Rebecca out of their cell. Now if my sense of timing is right, which I hope it is, by the time they reach here, Valentine and Burton should be doing the same, and then, my dear, dear Richardson, _you_ will be their final test. Of course, you won't remember it at that point, you'll be completely at the mercy of your power, so I ask that you enjoy these last few minutes of consciousness as they are all you have left." Wesker's cackling laugh filled the room.

Bryan thought of Ingrid, of his job, of his family, his life, of Justin and Sam, of all those people who he had or had wanted to meet, and those that changed his life in ways he'll never be able to thank them for, and the last thoughts recorded on the computer's biogenetic uplink to the brain of Bryan Richardson, before the steroid jelly had completely passed his head, were the following:

"He was right, just a number in a book, a number in a book of failures."


	30. Man or Monster?

Jill and Barry heard Wesker's cackling laugh ring through their ears as they approached the door. They couldn't tell what he was laughing at exactly, but whatever it had been it couldn't have been good.

"You ready?" Jill asked preparing to flank the entrance.

"As I'll ever be." Barry replied.

The two nodded at each other, raised their pistols, and then took sides of the door. Barry counted to three and then kicked the door in revealing Wesker standing at a terminal.

The room was simple, a computer terminal, some tables and chairs, a wall-sized monitor with a bunch on indescribable numbers and letters, and a very obvious two way mirror. To make things worse everything in the room was tan. The chairs, computer tables, and walls, all except the east wall which was a cold metal door labeled "Laboratory Entrance".

Wesker turned and looked in their direction.

"Ah, Barry, I see you've done your job well. I didn't expect you to go above and beyond your duties like this, but I commend you nonetheless." He said, never glancing away from the large monitor on the wall.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Barry replied.

"Well, you brought me Jill Valentine, which truly is a work by itself."

"What?" Jill said taking a step back.

"I guess the joke is on you Wesker," Barry answered, "I saw your email, you can't make me do shit anymore, Jill and I are here to put an end to your tyranny."

"Tyranny!" Wesker laughed, turning around, "You don't know the beginning of it!"

"Albert Wesker you are under arrest, put your hands on your head and lay down on the ground." Jill began to read the Miranda Warning.

"Oh skip the shit Valentine," Wesker retorted, "Barry I want you to go back to the courtyard and wait for me there. I have plans for Miss Valentine."

"Maybe you didn't hear me the first time," Barry said raising his magnum, "I saw your email, there's nobody outside my family's home, you have no control over me anymore."

"Ahh, ignorance truly is bliss," Wesker replied going back to his computer, "do you honestly think I left that email open by accident Burton? You were _boring_ me, so I thought I'd mix things up a bit. If you looked carefully you would have seen the email had never been sent yet. Of course I figured I'd have more time to plan before you read it, but I suppose this works just as well."

"No, Barry, don't listen. He's lying." Jill said.

"I said go wait in the courtyard Burton," Wesker added quickly as he reached for his walkie-talkie, "otherwise, you know the consequences."

Barry watched as Wesker clicked the talk button of the walkie-talkie on and off once. As the static clicked in and out Barry felt his stomach turn into a larger knot then it had been in all night. Wesker could very well be lying, but at the same time, based on his present mental state, he very easily could be telling the truth. Wesker's game had been deception from the get go, so what was to say he wasn't still playing.

Barry sighed and turned towards the door.

"Barry." Jill said desperately.

The door opened and shut as Barry's bright orange best disappeared behind it.

"Much better." Wesker said finally leaving his computer terminal and walking over to Jill.

"You can put the gun down now Valentine, it won't do you any good." He said.

Jill slowly lowered her gun back into its holster.

"I don't understand," she started, "why Captain? Why would you do this to us? You're a traitor."

"Ha!" Wesker exclaimed, "You can't even begin to wrap your mind around this situation Jill, I am no traitor, simply because I was never _for_ the S.T.A.R.S. team to begin with."

"What?" Jill asked, "How can that be? Why would anyone put themselves through such grueling testing if you don't even want to be a S.T.A.R.S. member?"

"How naïve, don't you get it? Umbrella appointed me here, all I had to do was keep you pests out of their hair and maintain a daily progress log with the scientists at this mansion facility. If I did my job I got my Umbrella pay, plus a little police stipend."

"They'll find out." Jill said. "With an operation like S.T.A.R.S. Umbrella will get caught."

"Wrong again Valentine," Wesker replied, "Those of us S.T.A.R.S who actually know how to make it in today's ever-changing world are Umbrella influenced. I'm not the only one by any means, and there aren't enough of you across America who Umbrella hasn't contacted for you to be of any threat to our operations. Face it, you lost."

"So why us? What is this all about?"

"Well, since I plan to kill you anyway, I suppose it couldn't hurt to share a few minor details," Wesker said. "Only the true villains of our time do this practice, so I consider myself privileged to be amongst them." He laughed.

"Cut the crap Wesker." Jill replied.

"Ah, getting straight to the chase I see, well, an accident occurred here, if you couldn't already tell," Wesker started, "and a very valuable piece of research known as the T or Tyrant virus was let loose on the inhabitants of this house. To make a long explanation short its affects our deadly to live tissue, killing it slowly, then converting any excess energy in the dead tissue into reanimation, into life. Of course this has a rather zombie like affect, which I'm sure you've seen this evening, but we at Umbrella see error as opportunity, so when opportunity struck, they contacted me and thought what better chance then now to test our creation in combat situations—,"

"And what better combatants then a unit of S.T.A.R.S members." Jill finished his sentence.

"Precisely," Wesker said, "you guys are called the best of the best, so why not see how good you really are? I had by now assumed that you all were dead and that Barry would be my last task, but now that I see you are still alive, I can finally test our modern miracle of science."

"Which would be?"

"You'll see soon enough."

"Wesker," Jill asked, "besides pay, what is in this for you? Unless that email was entirely fake it sounds like you are playing for more then one team here."

"You always were a smart one," Wesker replied, "In the world of business, one must remember that the difference between an average successful business man, and one of great report and power is evidence. Whereas once I kill you and Burton there will be no evidence beyond Umbrella of my S.T.A.R.S. involvement, after I steal the last surviving T-Virus sample and blow up the mansion, there will be no evidence for Umbrella when I sell the sample on the black market."

"But what if whoever you sell it to uses it?"

"No longer my concern," Wesker said, "The earlier in life you learn that, the better. If Burton had any street smarts he would have handled tonight much better."

"What? By blackmailing people that trusted him?"

"Ha! Blackmail? Please Valentine, you know as well as I do that that email was fake. I can't help that Burton is an idiot, not even I have that kind of jurisdiction over Umbrella's power. There was never anybody outside his home, but so long as he believes here is then there's less blood on my hands."

Wesker walked towards the door, away from the lab.

"Now, if you'll follow me," he said, "I can prep you for your meeting."

He laughed hysterically as he opened the door back to the hallway.

"After you Miss Valenti—."

Jill watched as Wesker instantly crumpled face first to the floor, his infamous sunglasses cracking into pieces against his face. Where he once stood was a very angry looking Barry Burton with magnum in hand. He had apparently clocked Wesker in the back of the head.

"Had to come back," he said looking at the incapacitated Wesker on the floor, "I almost forgot to kick your ass."

"Barry, how did you—I thought," Jill stuttered.

"I figured I may stick around for a few more minutes; never know what someone might say at just the right moment, eh?" Barry responded.

"Well, thank you, I really owe you one. Let's get him cuffed and conscious."

"I don't have any cuffs, you?"

"Nope," Jill said, "Let's see if there is any industrial wire or cord in the laboratory we could use."

The two walked over to the door and pressed the open button, the door hissed open and split in half revealing the laboratory on the other side. Jill and Barry wandered around the room looking for something that they could use to tie up Wesker, but as Barry continued looking Jill was suddenly intrigued by another idea.

"This is the modern miracle of science?" She thought looking at the large glass tube in the center of the room.

Suspended in a stasis state was a man, no—a monster. It was about six-and-a-half to seven feet tall with gray skin. Its head was bald, and its face was mutilated as if it had grown and stretched faster then it should, like pulled rubber, with large parts of bone and tooth exposed near the mouth. It had one human arm and one arm that had been horribly mutated; it was now shaped like a cluster of large, sharp claws, the longest extending down to the floor of the tube. It was naked, but not offensive as it had no sex organs, it almost seemed as though they had melted away, smooth skin replacing where they would have been. But the most interesting part of this thing was the tumor in its chest where the heart should have been.

"Wait," Jill thought, "that _is_ its heart!"

Jill watched as the tumor-like ball pulsated like a heart beat. Whatever was inside this tube was alive and well, just napping.

"Hey Jill!" Barry yelled from across the room, "I found some stuff I think we can use."

Jill turned and watched Barry rip some heavy-duty cables from behind a terminal and then turn towards her with them in hand.

"Barry, you need to come see this" Jill said calmly.

Barry walked over and looked at the tube that had caught his partner's attention.

"Jesus H. Christ," Barry said quietly in amazement, "Is that a person?"

"If it ever was a person, may god have mercy on their poor, poor soul." Jill said removing her green beret.

"Alright kid, this thing is starting to creep me out, let's tie up Wesker, and go back to Raccoon. I'm sure the appropriate authorities will know what to do with this place once we go public." Barry said.

"Go public?" A voice said from the back of room.

Jill and Barry turned quickly to see a rather battered and pissed-off Wesker standing in the doorway to the laboratory.

"I'm sorry, but I really, _really_, can't let you be doing that." He said slowly approaching them.

"Wesker stay right where you are goddamnit!" Barry yelled.

"Barry, quiet, you're going to wake that thing up!" Jill whispered.

"Or what," Wesker replied loudly in return, "Are you going to shoot me?"

Wesker slowly pulled his Desert Eagle out of its holster and began to aim it, through his slightly blurred, concussed vision, at his two foes.

"Wesker, don't do this," Jill said calmly as she motioned at the large tube behind her.

"Ha!" Wesker replied, "Far too late for that Valentine. See you in hell!."

Wesker shot at them both, missing because of the blow to the head. Jill and Barry dodged as the bullet struck the glass of the tube behind them.

Jill gasped and watched intently as the monster's eyes slowly opened, and its human hand began to pound at the slightly cracked glass in front of it.

"Jill!" Barry yelled, "Run! It's breaking loose."

The two S.T.A.R.S. members ran in separate ways for the door of the lab as Wesker, in turn, ran for the main terminal next to the test tube, slamming down the only red button on the keyboard.

Before either Barry or Jill could make it to the door, it began to hiss shut and a red light filled the room.

_FIFTEEN MINUTES UNTIL SELF-DESTRUCT SEQUENCE IS ACTIVATED_

"Shit!" Barry and Jill said in unison.

"Wesker you moron," Barry continued, "You just locked us in, we are all going to die."

"No, no dear Burton, not at all," Wesker replied, "The system goes into lock down for exactly three minutes, forcing scientists to back up and export their work before running in a frightened frenzy. So don't worry, the explosion won't kill you—."

Just then the central glass tube shattered and the large creature inside stumbled forward out of it onto the lab floor.

"Ah," Wesker continued his sentence, "But maybe _this_ will."

Wesker and the two S.T.A.R.S watched from separate ends of the room, as the monster in the tube, regained its footing and took a glance around the room letting out a terrible roar.

"Live my tyrant! Live!" Wesker said from behind it.

"Barry what should we do?" Jill said frantically.

"Wait," Barry replied, 'What's it doing?"

Jill and Barry watched as the monster slowly turned towards Wesker and began walking in his direction.

"Tyrant I command you to eliminate the S.T.A.R.S. team. Turn around I say!" Wesker was starting to panic.

The monster was less then a foot away before it stopped and starred at Wesker.

"Goddamnit Richardson," Wesker said under his breath, "I said kill them now. Turn the fuck around and your job you worthless piece of shi—."

Jill and Barry watched as the monster lunged its claws forward right through the abdomen of Captain Albert Wesker. Whatever he had planned to say was now lost to agonized wheezing and painful screaming as Wesker lay impaled upon the mutated fist of this creature, who then proceeded to through Wesker with all its strength half-way across the room, slamming him up against the wall.

Jill and Barry watched as he slid down the wall into a bloody heap on the floor.

Albert Wesker was dead.

And this "tyrant" was starting to turn around again.

_THIRTEEN MINUTES UNTIL SELF-DESTRUCT SEQUENCE IS ACTIVATED_

"Now what?" Jill asked.

"Let's keep it busy for one minute, until the door unlocks." Barry replied.

"Split up?"

"You got it kid."

The two S.T.A.R.S. members split in two directions around the edge of the laboratory, Barry heading to the left and towards the back, Jill to the right and towards Wesker's body. When she got there she grabbed his Desert Eagle off his body.

When Jill turned towards the beast again she saw it moving in on Barry who was standing against a wall, with his colt raised in the Tyrants direction. She heard him firing slug after slug at it, but it didn't seem to be remotely phased at all.

"Barry!" Jill yelled, "Aim for the heart!"

Jill ran towards him jumping over terminals and chairs to get in front of the beast, and once she did the two unloaded on it as best they could.

"Wait," Barry said as the Tyrant edged uncomfortably close, "I have an idea, take cover."

Jill dove under a desk as she watched Barry pull out a frag grenade from his pouch, pull the pin, and throw it right in the Tyrant's path. Jill covered her ears, and after the explosion stood up to see the Tyrant face first on the floor.

_TWELVE MINUTES UNTIL SELF-DESTRUCT SEQUENCE IS ACTIVATED. ALL DOORS ARE NOW UNLOCKED, PLEASE PROCEED TO THE NEAREST POINT OF EXIT._

Jill and Barry heard the laboratory door hiss open, and without a seconds hesitation ran for the door. There was no way they were about to wait to see if that thing was about to go for round two.

As they ran past the door, Jill stopped and looked at Wesker, dead, on the floor.

"Burn in hell," she said, spitting on his corpse.

The two S.T.A.R.S ran out of the lab, heading back down the hallway towards the elevator that lead back to the surface.

Just as they passed the door that they had passed before, it swung open behind them.

"Shit!" They both yelled jumping back and spinning around guns aimed and ready to fire.

Just then Chris and Rebecca came stumbling out from behind the door.

"Chris?" Jill yelled running to give him a hug.

"Yea," he replied, "it's me. But listen, there is something else you have to know. I think Wesker may be a traitor."

"We know Chris, Wesker is dead now." Barry said putting a hand on Chris shoulder as Jill embraced Rebecca.

"Dead?" he replied.

"Trust me, it was for the best. Now let's get the hell out of here!"

Just then Chris's walkie-talkie clicked on.

"_H-H-Hello? Can anyone hear me? I'm c-c-coming back, but its dark so if I am going to be able to see you, you are going to have to set up some f-f-flares."_

The walkie-talkie clicked out.

"Brad!" Chris shouted looking at his team, "Let's get on the roof and set off some flares, we're about to be rescued."

_NINE MINUTES UNTIL SELF-DESTRUCT SEQUENCE IS ACTIVATED_

"And not a moment too soon," Rebecca replied.

The four teammates headed into the elevator and pushed the "roof access" button. They waited patiently as it headed for the top of the building nobody saying a single word. At this point in the evening, words were useless and no longer necessary, their only concern was escape.

Escape and exposing Umbrella once and for all.


	31. The End of the Beginning?

The remaining S.T.A.R.S stood in the elevator as silently as they had sat in the helicopter on the way to this horrible evening in the first place. Each member honing their mental stability to pull them through just a little bit longer, until this nightmare was over.

The only difficult thing was the lack of silence. Above the slow mechanical humming of the elevator they had to deal with Chris battling to get reception over his walkie-talkie.

"Brad! Brad, can you hear me? Brad? Over." Chris would repeat ever minute or so.

There wasn't an answer, it was a miracle they had made out Brad's initial message in the first place. It would have to wait until they were on the roof and the flares were placed. Their only hope was that by then it wasn't too late.

_SIX MINUTES UNTIL SELF-DESTRUCT SEQUENCE IS ACTIVATED_

The teammates shuddered as that increasingly annoying warning blared over the mansion grounds and the elevator doors opened on the roof of the lab. Immediately they were blasted with crisp cool outside air, and could almost see dawn coming over the horizon.

"Quick," Jill yelled at Chris, "set those flares so we can get the hell out of here!"

Chris and Rebecca ran for the center-most part of the room, so the helicopter would have the most room to descend. Just as they got there, they stopped. As they got closer and closer the roof began to shake more and more.

"Chris," Rebecca asked, "is the roof getting weaker?"

"I'm not sure," he replied, "Jill, do you feel that?"

"Feel what?" she replied.

Before Jill could even turn around to see what Chris was talking about she saw the elevator shaft crumble to pieces, and was almost deafened by the loud twisting and cracking of metal as the elevator cab itself crunched into a ball and was shot up into the air and off the side of the building into the darkness below.

"What the fuck!" she screamed as Barry helped her back to her feet.

"I don't know kid," Barry replied, "but I don't think we're going to like it. Chris, don't stop setting those flares, we don't have a whole lot of time.

Just then Jill saw a large talon-like claw appear from inside the hole in the roof. It was bloody, tattered and grey, but it was definitely intact.

"Shit." Jill and Barry said in unison.

"Jill get back, I'll take care of this, just cover Chris and Rebecca."

"Yessir." Jill replied stepping back, but her answer was droned out by the repetitive announcement blaring over the sound system.

_FIVE MINUTES UNTIL SELF-DESTRUCT SEQUENCE IS ACTIVATED_

Jill watched as the Tyrant they thought they had killed climbed completely out of the whole and began to pace back and forth in front of Barry and herself. It seemed to be plotting out its options, but at the same time Jill could see it had weakened from before. Pieces of shrapnel were wedged into its tumor-like heart, and she could see that it reeled back as Barry's magnum shells peeled through its leathery skin.

Every time it began to rush Barry would send another bullet into its chest knocking it back slightly. Jill watched in amazement as Barry handled the situation with complete cool, but she could imagine after a night like this, a fight like this seemed like nothing more then an extreme hunting trip to Barry.

_BAM!_

The Tyrant took a shell to the face and fell flat on its back.

_THREE MINUTES UNTIL SELF-DESTRUCT SEQUENCE IS ACTIVATED_

"Chris," Barry shouted looking back over his shoulder, "How's it coming?"

"I've got one more flare to light, but I still haven't gotten anything on the walkie. But I think I may hear a 'copter off in the distance."

"Keep trying! He must be around here somewhere."

Jill glanced back as the two men traded phrases, but then realized that nobody was watching the Tyrant. By the time she turned back it was too late.

"Barry watch out!" Jill shouted as the monster regained its footing, charged, and used its massive claws to send Barry flying to the edge of the roof, nearly off the building.

"Shit!" She screamed as she ran at the beast her Beretta shooting out bullets left and right.

The monster turned from Barry's direction to see what was shooting at it and began a slow pace towards Jill.

"Fuck," she thought as her clip ran dry, "what do I do now?"

The Tyrant must have sensed she was no threat as it approached at its own slow pace, almost as if to intimidate her. She began to back up, towards the edge of the roof, slowly running out of places to run.

She would have screamed for Chris's help, but there was a really loud whirring noise that seemed to be drowning her out.

"Wait a minute," she thought, "whirring noise?"

Then she recognized it, the all too familiar whirring noise of helicopter blades spinning through the air. Brad was right above them.

"J-J-Jill!" said a recognizable voice, "Use this!"

Right at her feet a large black box-like object dropped hard onto the roof. It took her a second to register it in her brain, but when she realized it was the S.T.A.R.S issue rocket-propelled grenade launcher, she dove forward picking it up.

As the Tyrant began to approach and pick up speed, Brad angled the helicopter blades in its direction using wind power to slow it down, and also allowing Chris and Rebecca to climb aboard.

Jill knelt down behind the helicopter's force, prepped the launcher, loaded it and readied it for fire.

"Brad!" she yelled, "Clear!"

Without hesitation the helicopter lifted into the air allowing the Tyrant to regain speed and head straight for Jill. She almost felt bad taking this creature's life. For all she knew, Umbrella had made this thing what it was, it could have been completely innocent.

"Yea," she thought resting her finger on the trigger and taking aim, "I _almost_ feel bed."

Jill pulled the trigger and watched the RPG twirl through the air and connect with the Tyrant.

_BOOM!_

The Tyrant, along with a quarter of the roof exploded into a dusty mess and settled in a cloud of dust.

_ONE MINUTE UNTIL SELF-DESTRUCT SEQUENCE IS ACTIVATED_

"Jill, hurry up! Get Barry!" Chris yelled from the helicopter.

Jill ran over to Barry and picked him up off the ground. She watched as he slowly regained consciousness.

"C'mon big guy," she said, "We have to get out of here."

She helped him limp to the helicopter as he groaned and tried to make sense out of what had happened.

_THIRTY-SECONDS UNTIL SELF-DESTRUCT SQUENCE IS ACTIVATED_

"Hurry up!" Brad said as the two climbed into the helicopter, "We d-d-don't have much t-time left!"

After Jill and Barry had climbed in, Brad took the helicopter straight up as the final countdown sounded.

_TEN_

_NINE_

_EIGHT_

"We aren't high enough!" Chris shouted.

_SEVEN_

_SIX_

_FIVE_

_FOUR_

"C'mon Brad!" Jill pleaded.

_THREE_

_TWO_

The helicopter reached safe altitude and distance from the mansion grounds as the final second sounded.

_ONE_

_**BOOM!**_

The helicopter shuddered, along with its passengers as the mansion and surrounding grounds that they had inhabited over the past evening exploded into a fiery mess before their eyes.

There was an extended moment of solace and silence amongst the remaining S.T.A.R.S.

"All those innocent lives," Rebecca said breaking the silence.

"All those S.T.A.R.S members." Chris added.

"Let us honor those who lost their lives in the line of duty: Forrest Speyer, Enrico Marini, Richard Aiken and Kenneth Sullivan. You will never be forgotten." Barry said.

"And to you Justin," Jill whispered as she removed her beret and handed it to Barry.

"Let this be a symbol of their courage. May they rest in peace." Barry said as he through the beret out of the helicopter and into the woods below them.

"T-t-that was b-b-beautiful Barry," Brad added from the cockpit.

The rest of the flight was silent as the helicopter headed back towards S.T.A.R.S headquarters in Raccoon City. Jill rested her head on Chris's shoulder, and Rebecca did the same to Barry. They were exhausted, hurt, astonished, shocked and way to confused to even speak of what happened over the past evening. Though nobody said a word a silent pact was made between the remaining five lives.

The sun was starting to rise on a new day, and the remaining S.T.A.R.S. knew they had a new job to do.

Umbrella had to be shut down.

No matter what the consequences.


	32. The End

_TEN_

As the final seconds sounded the creatures of the Spencer Estate shuffled around mindlessly

_NINE_

_EIGHT_

_SEVEN_

A breeze blew across the woods, knocking the unsteady re-animated corpse of Justin Baker on his back

_SIX_

_FIVE_

A Cerberus galloped across the expansive backyard on his way to find his brethren

_FOUR_

_THREE_

The body of Albert Wesker lay prey to a pack of Pincers in a hallway quite far from where the Tyrant had left him for dead.

_TWO_

Nobody there ever saw it coming.

_ONE_

And as the bright light of an impending explosion lit up every last square inch of the mansion, and the dust-caked tables and chairs began to shake….

Nobody there would ever realize it was gone.


	33. Or Is It?

Hours had passed, but these people were efficient. The fires were still burning, but Wesker had promised a sample, and he always followed through on his word.

"Where are we supposed to be meeting him?" asked a man.

"Where the coordinates indicated." Replied the other.

"We've arrived." Said the pilot of the Blackhawk helicopter.

"Take it down." Both men said together.

As they descended they could smell burning flesh, wood, and paper. The fumes were overpowering so both men took gas masks, and climbed out of the helicopter, landing a few feet below.

They sifted through the waste, looking for anything valuable, and keeping an eye out for their contact.

"I don't see him," said the first man.

"Same." Said the second.

Just then the first man tripped over something. Using a stick he dug beneath the debris.

"Come check this out."

"What?"

"I think it's him."

The two men looked down at the charred, impaled corpse of Albert Wesker.

"Well, monetarily speaking, we benefit from this situation I guess." The second man said as he searched whatever was left of Wesker's pockets.

"Is it there?"

"Affirmative." Replied the second, as he pulled the glass vial out of Wesker's front pocket.

"You know, since we don't have to pay him, we could use the money for some _personal research_." The first man said pointing as Wesker's body.

The two men glanced at the blue liquid inside the vial. Then the second man called up to the helicopter over his walkie-talkie.

"Land and bring us a body bag. There will be some unanticipated extra luggage, and make it quick. The press will be crawling over this disaster area in a matter of no time. Not to mention the authorities."

After a few moments of digging and work Wesker's body had been bagged, placed in the helicopter and lifted into the air.

"And to think," the first man said, "Umbrella will have no idea we were ever here."

"Indeed." Said the second man, as he patted his hand against starchy material of the body bag and the helicopter flew off into the sunrise.

"Indeed."


End file.
